The Fall Of Doriath by gamil-zirak

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Ravenne

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RAVENNE

THE FALL OF DORIATH

RAVENNE is her mother-name which is She-lion.
VANYAMORE is her father-name which is Dark beauty.
BAMORIEN is the Sindarin translation of her father-name.
MUINE OSELLE means beloved sworn-sister
OSELLE is a term used by the sons of Fëanor for Ravenne. It means sworn-sister.
ORTORNO is a term used by Ravenne for the sons of Fëanor. It means sworn-brother.
FEANARIEL is the name given to Ravenne by the people of Fëanor in Formenos. It means Fëanor's daughter.
Please forgive the use of the term Fëanorrim as being used by the characters in this chapter. I did this because I do not know the Noldorin equivalent for "The People of Fëanor" If anyone would be so kind as to give me the correct translation I'll be grateful. Thanks.

 

*OHTATYERONISSI means the "Warrior Women"

Chapter Seven...
"RAVENNE"

Here must be told of how those women of the people of Fëanor came to be known as the Ohtatyeronissi.

The night sky of Middle-earth shone with the silver lustre of a thousand full moons before the sun and moon rose to wander their neverending paths in the heavens. The Age Of Stars had passed in relative peace over Beleriand, yet the silver hue that had illuminated the gentle life of the Sindarin and Silvan elves along, with the Naugrim now shone upon events of violence and sorrow. The Dark Power of the north had returned and it's wrath had fallen with a heavy stroke upon the free peoples of Beleriand. There had been sorrowful defeat, but also rousing victories as the elves rallied against the hordes of Angband. Yet all had ended in deadlock, with the people of Thingol enclosed within the Girdle of Protection that lay about the lands of Doriath, while Cirdan and his people were shut behind the great walls of the harbour cities of the Falas.

Both elven realms lying east and west were besieged and their peoples held in constant doubt and war readiness as the lands between them crawled with the dark shapes of the enemy that now roamed about Beleriand, seemingly victorious. The once shadowless valleys were become full of dark niches out of which peered evil eyes, leering with hateful intent. The silver plains and grasslands were marred by iron-shod feet as dark hunched shapes marched at will over the grey fields. Wolvish silhouettes sat upon the crowns of craggy hilltops, their dreadful howling setting a great fear upon any of pure heart who heard their haunting cries.

Such was the sorry state of the lands the stars looked down upon, and in dismay their glowering radiance was dimmed. Yet a bright savage light of red flames was kindled to the north and a great billowing smoke was sent up, spreading over the land as a coiling black stain drifting in the winds. A new army had arrived unlooked for upon the shores of Middle Earth! The pale eyes in the heavens followed it closely as it marched inland from Losgar and passing through the Cirith Ninniach, it poured into the land of Dor-Lomin and headed on eastward. But the countenance of the stars was not brightened in hope for Beleriand as should have been at the arrival of the newcomers, for doubt had been sown by the great burning witnessed that would seem to be an omen of a dark deed in itself.

Yet good or otherwise, the stars were grieved as their lofty sight now beheld a great multitude issuing from Angband. No warning could the white fires of Varda give as they twinkled mournfully in the Ilmen, witnessing the renewed orcish hordes crawl over the mountains of Ered Wethrin as a moving shadow, snaking its way about the high passes, and flowing down the western slopes that looked towards the silver tear-drop of lake Mithrim where the newcomers had halted. The lustre of the stars was further diminished in their hopelessness, for times were changing for the peaceful lands they had joyously illuminated for so long. Changing for the worst. Storm clouds swept over the sprawling landscape beneath them and a great rain was loosed upon the land. For the stars could do nothing but weep. That at least they could do.

                                                                                                       ~oOo~

A great din of horns blowing wildly filled the air, accompanied by the cries of the soldiery of Fëanor. There was a great commotion as the elves sought to ready themselves for the oncoming attack that had suddenly ambushed them from out of the surrounding mountains. Ravenne stood upon a low knoll beside the calm waters of lake Mithrim whose shimmering surface glistened with wavering strands of silver in the starlight; a serene vision that belied the oncoming storm. Her jet black waist length hair strayed in the night breeze, revealing her face in full that was of stern expression, and her keen grey eyes were alert to all about. Warriors with burnished shields and tall helms hastily gathered in formation as messengers ran hither and thither on urgent errands, and captains called out their commands. The clink of shining armour and ringing of flashing swords came to her ears.

The armies of Fëanor were arrayed in a long defensive line that stood as a defiant wall, erected to stay a black tide that raged and surged towards them. Each phalanx stood at least five lines deep across a wide flat grassland that was bordered on both sides by two rivers that flowed down from the mountains to the lake. The elvish warriors that stood before Ravenne lay under the command of Celegorm, and they were the southernmost company that defended Fëanor's right flank and stood by the banks of both the lake and its southerly tributary river. Some distance behind the defensive line stood a multitude of wains that were spread over a great distance from north to south. In these were all the elves precious belongings that they had brought over from Aman. There also were their food supplies, tools and a vast amount of weaponry and armour. Stood about these wains was a great throng who were all the women and children of the Fëanorrim, standing silent in fearful anticipation.

A grim smile slowly formed upon Ravenne's face as she watched the swift preparations that came of a camp that was not full wrought or put in defence. She had defied the order to stand by the wains in relative safety, but had rather placed herself just behind the battle lines on the gentle rise, being driven by a perilous curiosity and an unfettered pride. For Ravenne would not stand cowering at the rear with the rest of the women and children whilst the enemy they had journeyed long to face now charged their elvish ranks. Even as the warriors gathered in their places of defence, she had seized a great banner that was hung upon a long black staff and strode forward undeterred.

Upon reaching the knoll, she thrust the staff deep into the ground and turned to face the enemy, standing tall and proud beside the standard that she unfurled, displaying the emblazoned fiery design of the Star of Fëanor. Many warriors turned towards her, acknowledging her proud stance with gentle nods and grim smiles. But little did she and the others who were at her side know of their peril, as they stood armourless upon that open place. For she was not alone as there were a few other bold women who were of the same mind as she, and had followed her to the knoll in an act of symbolic defiance. They all wished to see with their own eyes the dreaded orc armies of Morgoth that had been somewhat described to them by those of the Sindar they had come across in the lands of Mithrim.

It had not been easy to converse with these elves as their speech was sundered by a parting of thousands of years. Yet through meaningful gestures and swift learning, the Noldor were made to understand but a little, the dangers they were to face in Middle-earth. However, Fëanor and his people were not daunted by the Sindar's warnings, and many blew their horns to the silent mountains that stood before them, as if to taunt the rumoured enemy. The din had startled the Sindarin elves who then fled back to the hills, leaving the Fëanorrim to their fate.

"Craven fools!" Fëanor had cried after them. "See how they fly back to their caves! But no matter. Let the meek flee to the shadows whilst we of stout heart go forth to overcome our foe. Our deeds of valour shall succour these unhappy Moriquendi, then shall they know that the glorious Calaquendi have indeed returned. And by our victories shall they see that unlike them, we inherited the courage of our fathers, who of old held on their way and were not faint of heart as they sought the enlightenment and bliss of Aman!"

So said Fëanor who then put a horn to his lips and shattered the airs with his cry of challenge to his foes. He blew such a blast that leapt forth to careen against the mountain sides with echoing blows, the dint of which filled all the valleys and ravines before them with a great ringing din. Thereafter they had resumed their march, skirting the mountains of Mithrim to their right and passed on eastward until they came to the great lake they had been told of. Here they decided to set up camp as the land was fair and water was abundant. Yet the challenge for war was accepted far sooner than Fëanor had reckoned.

So things now stood as Ravenne turned to the other women on the mound and found their courage wavering. All were tense and wide eyed, being filled with a growing fear and doubt. Already the horns of the unseen enemy sounded much nearer and the savage cries of the orcs swept downwind to their ears from afar. Yet no elf there fully knew of what to expect from this new threat. Besides the fearful descriptions of the Sindar, only Fëanor and a handful of others, loremasters maybe, had some idea as to the orcs. For there were but few records in Tirion that gave strange accounts of the great journey from Cuiviénen to Aman. In those tales were some that spoke of ruined beings that were fearful to behold, that had fled the western wars when Utumno was vanquished.

These creatures had been seen by the northernmost elvish wandering companies, yet the orcs had fled from the Eldar, thinking perhaps they were the eastern armies of the Valar that were come to rout their survivors. However, the elves they saw instinctively did not seek to speak with them or to pursue them, as they themselves were filled with a fear and loathing towards the foul creatures. Each had skirted the other in the ancient wilderness, but the elves did not altogether forget of them. In the days of bliss in Aman, a few recalled their dark remembrances and had them written down. Yet these tales were only known to but a few as most chose to ignore or forget the more sinister tales of their great trek. But the said orcs were no longer to be viewed as a myth by the Noldor, but as real foes that were emboldened by their returned master, and at his command now bore down upon them from the north and east.

Lords, captains and warriors of the Fëanorrim all felt the doubtful pangs of uncertainty. The presumed safety of the wains was of no comfort either, as women and children huddled together in the throes of a rising fear. But Ravenne was still defiant in the mounting dark. She looked up to the heavens for the silver hue of the stars seemed to diminish. Indeed, great stormclouds that had rolled in from the west now swept over their heads, devouring the meagre starlight as they spread an ominous shadow over the field. The hearts of the elves fell yet again as most thought the darkening to be an omen of doom. Ravenne's attention turned to the warriors who stood at the foot of the knoll. They too were looking skyward and some raised their fists.

"Behold the wrath of the Valar that dims the light of the world to the benefit of our foes!" they cried bitterly. "Surely they are in league with Morgoth!"

Even as they said these things, there was a distant clash of steel and faint cries. All heads turned northward and a murmur of voices rose, sweeping southward upon the wind with new tidings. "Our army is engaged with the enemy to the north!"

A captain now came among the warriors nearest Ravenne, urging all to gather their courage as the storm of war was almost upon them. Truly he spoke, for at that moment there came a noise as if a wind had arisen in the east, and now swept westward towards their ranks. All who stood there fell silent, listening perforce to the approaching hiss.

Suddenly the captain gave a cry. "Ware! Ware! The arrows of the enemy are upon us!" Swiftly, shields were raised in grim anticipation but the captain looked to the women, gesturing wildly at them. "Away from the rise you maidens!" he cried. "Flee to the wains!"

But his warning came too late for the arrows rained down upon the elves at that moment as a deadly hail of black darts. The warriors endured the perilous downpour but there was chaos upon the knoll. Women ran hither and thither screaming. Some wounded were crawling away while others lay dead. Ravenne rose unharmed from where she crouched, silently cursing her foolishness in standing armourless in so open a place.

She reached for the arm of one who lay before her and recognized the face. "Annis!" she called. "Let me help you."

But Ravenne spoke to one who was far beyond hearing for she was dead; pierced by two black shafted arrows. Ravenne looked about her and the ghastly sight of dart ridden bodies was reflected in her glistening grey eyes. Some lay facing her and she recalled their names and how they were in life; beautiful elven women of gay spirit who would no longer laugh or sing, or fall in love and marry and raise families. Now they lay dead as their spirits fled and winged their way back across the western seas to the halls of Mandos, leaving crumpled bodies with lifeless expressions upon fair faces. For the first time, real fear assailed Ravenne. But all was not lost as there were some who lay hard by, crying out for aid in their agony. She ran over to one and clutched her fallen comrade's arms that were strained towards her in an outstretched plea.

"Do not worry Mótare," Ravenne said soothingly as she hauled her kinswoman up. "I am here for you."

Others were rescued by warriors who now sprang to the aid of their wounded womenfolk, nimbly carrying them off towards the wains. Ravenne clasped her charge close as they left the knoll, and the wounded woman gasped through clenched teeth in her pain as she limped forward while Ravenne spoke soft words of encouragement. She turned her head back in anger so as to witness the defence that would surely avenge their dead, but her fury was swiftly chilled to sorrow as she saw that a few warriors had also fallen and among them lay the captain, who in giving his warning had left himself exposed to the arrows deadly bite. She turned back and pressed on towards the wains.

A call of warning went up again, causing Ravenne to pause tensely as another wave of black darts fell about her. She stood there wincing at each striking thud in fearful anticipation, yet sighed with relief when the airs cleared. She was unharmed and so continued on, struggling with exertion under the dead weight of her wounded charge.

"I cannot carry you all the way Mótare!" she gasped. "I also need your help." But Mótare did not answer.

Ravenne halted and turned Mótare's face but was greeted by blank eyes staring at the ground. Ravenne gently laid her down, closed her kinswoman's grey eyes and knelt for a moment with bowed head, seemingly heedless to all about her. From behind came a resounding clash and cries rose amid the din of battle. Ravenne turned swiftly towards the knoll. The elves there had engaged the enemy at last and amid their cries could be heard the snarls and yells of the orcs.

"Do they fight beasts?" Ravenne muttered as she rose and began to run towards safety. Yet even as she sprang forward, a horseman drew up to her and bid her halt with a harsh voice.

"See what your foolishness would do Ravenne!" he cried. "Women have been needlessly slain upon the knoll while others run wild and heedless in their fear and hinder our men who fight to protect them."

"Then what are you doing here Tyelcormo?" Ravenne returned. "Have you left the battle lines just to tell me that?"

The prince stiffened visibly in his saddle but Ravenne was undaunted. "Go to where you are most needed, unless the battle has proven too hot for you."

Celegorm's eyes glinted as he bristled beneath his armour, but he turned his horse away with a click of his tongue and galloped swiftly back to the fray. Ravenne watched him go, both annoyed yet anxious for the third son of Fëanor.

                                                                                                       ~oOo~

She had known Celegorm since childhood, for Sailanambar her father had been a great smith in the service of Fëanor, aiding him in teaching the art of craftsmanship to those of the Noldor who wished to learn. Both families had been very close in friendship, but this had ended with Fëanor's banishment as Sailanambar had not sided with his deeds towards Fingolfin. And though a great love lay between father and daughter, Ravenne did not follow Sailanambar's counsel in the matter, deeming that the friendships of the children should not end through the misdeeds of the parents.

But Sailanambar did not agree with her and said, "Dearest daughter, heed me in this. Far and free shall the choices of Fëanáro take him and his sons, yet all his counsels and deeds shall be overshadowed by darkness. It grieves me deeply that such should happen to this great son of the Noldor, but Feanaro has sown a seed of the darkness to come by raising his sword against Nolofinwe his kinsman. Fey indeed has the son of Miriel become! Therefore follow not the dark path Fëanáro shall yet lead the Noldor, I beg you!"

But Ravenne would not listen to her father and so to his grief and sorrow; she followed her friends, the sons of Fëanor to Formenos.

As one of the people of Fëanor she became thereafter, being a closer friend to Celegorm than all the other brothers. Yet in truth she had long harboured in her heart a pain most grievous to elves. For she loved Celegorm yet he had never shown her anything more than brotherly affection. This was held to be strange by those who guessed at their friendship, for the dark beauty of Ravenne was very great, such that royalty would deem her fit for a queen. But not so with Celegorm it seemed.
So it was between them, and in every endeavour, Ravenne stood by Celegorm as a dutiful sister; his confidant; his companion; his dear friend. Whether on the hunt or at leisure, she was seldom apart from the brothers, so much so that others gave her the title "Fëanáriel" which is "Daughter of Fëanáro." Upon hearing of this, Fëanor declared that it was truly so, for he had been greatly moved by her choice to follow him into exile, forsaking her beloved father. Therefore to honour her loyalty as well as show his love, he indeed called her daughter when they were together.

Yet as the long years passed in Aman, so too did the sorrow of Ravenne's heart harden to bitterness, so that she became somewhat grim and silent. Evermore seldom was her laughter heard in the halls and gardens of Formenos, and her smile was bequeathed to but a few. She held herself tall and proud and had but few friends outside the royal house. But less were of womenfolk, for as time passed she was found more in the company of men. Yet because of her secret longing, to none was her heart's love given though many a lord sought her favour. But so great was her beauty and noble bearing, along with her close friendship with the royal house that in time her people esteemed her as the Lady of the Fëanorrim, peer of the elven lords of Formenos.

She was beheld by many through meek eyes, as a woman who was stern and strong, who possessed a lofty beauty that was only to be admired from afar, and yet coldly acknowledged in return; unattainable to any suitor. For what love she had was given mostly to her ideal of the Fëanorrim. This indeed became apparent to all as whenever she was moved to speak at length, she would debate issues of disquiet with proud words. Talk of the power of the Fëanorrim in Aman is what she mostly spoke of, echoing the sentiments of Fëanor, and in all speech against the Valar, she was most vocal. So fell a shadow upon Ravenne in which the bitterness of her unrequited love played a major part.

But a greater shadow fell upon all in the Blessed Land of the Valar. For Teleperion and Laurelin were both destroyed by Ungoliant, and Finwe the King was slain before the doors of Formenos by Morgoth. In Tirion, Fëanor and his sons uttered the terrible Oath and thereafter came the Flight of the Noldor.

Upon returning to Tirion with Fëanor, Ravenne was reunited with Sailanambar her father, but he was filled with an even greater sorrow and grief upon seeing the grim change that had come upon his daughter. Long he sought to dissuade her once again from following Fëanor and his brood as she stood silent in her father's house. The walls about them flickered red in the torch light, mimicking the garish mood of disquiet that prevailed over the city. The sound of hurrying feet; calling voices; carts clattering along paved roads; a general pandemonium came to them from outside.

In that dark hour, Sailanambar pleaded for his daughter to hold to hope and remain with her family, but all that he said was in vain for at length she halted him with laughter that chilled his heart. Loud it echoed about the dim walls, yet it was cold and mirthless. Sailanambar then fell silent, staring at Ravenne with a growing fear as she said strange things that could not have come from the lips of the daughter he knew and loved.

"Stay you say!" she suddenly cried with flashing eyes. "Stay for what dear father? There is nothing for me here. There has never been anything for me in Aman, not even the happiness that is the right of all who dwell in the Blessed Land. Nay, the bliss of Aman that failed me years ago has now failed all who dwell here and that may be of some comfort to me. But now I shall leave this accursed land and seek to fulfil my destiny elsewhere. Whatever may be of this Endórë we have heard of, this at least shall be true: We shall be masters of our own fate, neither cozened by the Valar who have so utterly failed us, nor comforted by their fruitless doctrines that they have only served to blind us with. The Light that was meant to overpower the Darkness has been all but consumed by it. Aman has failed as the Valar have failed. Love of ease, laughter and bliss has come to naught. Only wrath and vengeance for those who have been wronged must rule the day!

Morgoth has rendered his kindred Valar impotent, but we Noldor shall do more than they. For we shall pursue him as we pursue our new destiny. We shall start anew in Endórë and contend with our enemy for every inch of soil which through our sacrifice of blood, sweat and toil, shall in time become the fields and gardens of our new realms. And our people shall be governed by lordships and ladyships as men and women stand together as equals in battle and otherwise.

And what of our endgame! For we do not forget the rape of the Silmarils or the murder of our king. Yea father! I witnessed that ghastly act with my own eyes and I will never forget the horror of that deed. It is graven in my memory and in my heart, yet I shall nurture the pain it gives me and so garner the vengeful strength I will need as we soldier on against the enemy in a distant land. Know that Lord Finwe shall be avenged and we shall not rest until all the Silmarils are recovered. Indeed the Noldor will look to that! So save your speeches to me father, for I am immune to their effect. Rather bid your daughter farewell and let us part at that."

So said Ravenne to Sailanambar her father amid the backdrop of the chaos in Tirion when Fëanor roused the Noldor to leave Aman.

Yet the hopes of Ravenne were soon checked as Fëanor would allow no woman to fight in battle with the Teleri of Alqualondë. Yet afterwards, and by her request, the women of the Fëanorrim were trained in the arts of war. For Fëanor assented at last to Ravenne's argument that the women had at least the right to learn how to defend themselves as they might be forced to do should they reach the perilous lands of Middle-earth. Yet even now, with the enemy attacking them in earnest, the women were thrust behind the battle lines, treated as possessions that had to be saved and protected rather than as fellow elves who should be given armour and sword to also fight for what they believed in.

                                                                                                       ~oOo~

So now Ravenne stood, still smarting from the curt reprimand given to her by Celegorm. If only she could take up a sword and shield and aid in driving the enemy back, then he would see that she was more to be reckoned with than as a woman who was to be rebuked for displaying a manly courage deemed unbefitting of a lady. After a bitter moment she turned away and started back towards the wains. Yet there came shouts from behind and looking back again, she could see warriors drawing towards her with wounded comrades in tow. She swiftly ran to their aid, linking a wounded knight's arm over her neck so as to support his limping form.

"How goes the battle?" she asked him as they walked forward.

"It goes better for us than it should as we are far outnumbered," he answered grimly. "Indeed we have recovered from our initial horror of the creatures we face; the orcs of Morgoth. They are ghastly to behold, with faces that are misshapen with malice and evil. They are also fell and strong and fight with reckless hatred. Nonetheless, we hold them at bay, for such is the valour of the Fëanorrim at need."

They were nearing the wains now and several maidens came forward to aid the wounded soldiers. They swiftly tended to them, using all manner of herbs of wholesome virtue and healing salves from Aman. Ravenne left the knight in capable hands and turned to look back at the battle lines. A fervent eagerness to join her comrades and smite the impetuous enemy festered without hope as she glimpsed flashes of working swords and raised shields. Frustrated, she turned to glance about her and beheld a flurry of activity as women lent themselves to the task at hand, aiding each other in tending the wounded. Gone was their fear and uncertainty. Once more a grim smile came to Ravenne's face: the Noldor would not be so easily defeated as their proud spirits would yet rally against the odds. Both men and women were strong, being filled with the indomitable vigour of the blessed land of Aman that still coursed like fire through their veins.

Suddenly there was a searing flash of light and a crackling din that tore the night airs asunder as if the sky itself were at war in a spectacular clash of lightning and thunder. Rain began to fall; heavy drops that multiplied into a pouring cascade that swiftly turned into a blinding torrent. Raging winds howled, assailing the elves with the icy chill of cold invisible hands. It were as if the skies were in collusion with the enemy, and now sought to aid the will of evil in beating the elvish resistance down into despair.

Swiftly were frightened children wrapped in cloaks and blankets and thrust under the billowing canvas of the wains and shielded by their desperate mothers. Yet the brave maidens continued to work for the wounded, hauling those they could beneath the wain carriages for shelter, or else they continued to work undeterred in the open, drenched to the skin as they ignored the lashing downpour. Ravenne turned upward, squinting at the flashing sky with blinking eyes.

"Hear me O Valar?" she cried to the heavens. "Endórë will not defeat the Fëanorrim! We will defy each challenge this land throws at us!"

She shook her fists at the sky that momentarily lit up to reveal a vast tear in the black ceiling, letting through a vision of tumultuous silver tipped grey clouds that rose dome upon swirling dome to unguessed heights. The gargantuan towers lit up of their own accord as they were seared by inner lightnings that illuminated their grey walls.

"O Manwë whom all storms and winds obey, what more do you have in store for our dismay!" came Ravenne's defiant shout.

Swiftly was she answered for at that moment there came the sound of an approaching rider, galloping in from the west. The women there looked to his approach in wonder, and Ravenne strode forward to meet him. The rider came to a halt and leapt off his steed in great haste.

"What news?" she asked as the tall hooded form came before her.

"Lady Vanyamórë," he said, recognizing her despite the darkness and the wall of rain cascading between them. He pulled down his hood in a swift motion, revealing a pale face that seemed greatly distressed. "I am one of the scouts who was sent to the southern shores of the lake and the lands yonder." He pointed away southward over the shattered lake surface. "Yet I have ridden back in haste with an urgent warning. The enemy is cunning for a great force comes this way even as I speak, having rounded the lake from the south so as to attack us from behind, coming from the west. There are many fell beasts that are moving swiftly, following the northern shoreline."

The urgency in his voice immediately stirred Ravenne into action. She sprang away, flying towards the nearby wains that were stored with weaponry. Ignoring the surprised stare of the guardians who stood there, she peered into the interior of one; her grey eyes roving to and fro until they found what she sought.

"Women of the Fëanorrim! Hold yourselves in readiness for the enemy bears down upon you from the west!"

So went up the cry that caught the attention of many who stood there. The scout had not been idle for even as Ravenne leapt away, he sprung into action himself, running hither and thither, calling his warning to all he came across. Those women that heard him were stricken by these new dread tidings, and the fears they had suppressed now resurfaced in their hearts. Some of the wounded warriors beckoned to him.

"Tell us what you have seen," they asked. He told them as they looked to each other with troubled glances. "Word of this new peril must reach our lords with all haste," they said, pointing eastward to where the battle raged on. "Go swiftly to our captains there and warn them. They will send those of our warriors who can be spared to defend our rear."

Yet at that moment there sounded the clear and resonant blast of a horn. Its call rose above the din of the storm, inducing all who would heed to listen. There was Ravenne, stood atop the billowing canvas of a wain and skilfully balanced upon the apex of an arched wooden rib. She had on a shirt of mail, overlaid with a black surcoat that displayed the Star of Fëanor in silver. In her left hand was a horn with a baldric of gold, graven with elven runes of power that were wound about it from tip to mouth. In her right hand was a sword that trailed a long ribbon of water off its blade in the sweeping winds.

"Hear me my womenfolk!" she cried in a great voice and all about her stood still, staring with wide eyes. "Tidings have reached us of the enemy that now seeks to attack us from the west, catching our army off guard as they attack our rear."

This drew fearful gasps from those who had not yet heard the news, while those who had strove within themselves to quell their rising fears.

"Yet Morgoth and his orcs have reckoned nothing of the women of the Fëanorrim," Ravenne continued. "Perhaps deeming that we shall cower before them, screaming and fleeing as they cut us down. That may be as it was with the womenfolk of the Moriquendi but not so with us. Our men have work enough as they fight to hold the enemy at bay eastward. Too few can come to our aid to hold this new force back whilst we are herded like cattle to the centre for our protection. We as women came not to Endórë for the sole purpose of tending to our husbands households. Or to bear their children or through our love, keep our menfolk content at such times when they should set aside the grim policies of war for mirth. Were we not also moved to seek revenge for our fallen king and the rape of the Silmarils? Our lord Fëanaro spoke of these things to us all in Tirion, and not to the men only. We have braved the long journey from the easy certainties of life in Aman to the great unknown of Endórë. Now that we are come, we must not falter but should continue to prove our courage in the face of the mounting odds that are set against us!"

Women now looked to each other, some nodding their assent to what was said to them. Grim expressions darkened fair faces and grey eyes began to brighten with the steady flames of a newly roused purpose.

"Tell me my sisters," continued Ravenne. "Where is it said that our Noldorin men surpass their women in courage and valour, the two traits to live by in a perilous land? But the women I see before me have those traits in abundance, and the time has come to show this to our menfolk. Let them know that they need not scramble to our aid when peril assails us, for we can look to ourselves in times of war and equally do our part in valour beside them!"

Assenting cries now came from the gathering crowd as Ravenne's words touched their womanly pride which swelled to a rising courage that overthrew their fears of the approaching enemy. Now Ravenne sought to hammer her final point home.

"Therefore women of the Fëanorrim, I say to you, arise from meek thought! Let the pride of the eldest house of Finwë soar in your brave hearts!"

More women cried out their support and the embers of wrath that had been kindled by Fëanor in Tirion and had but cooled through the passage of time were fanned once more to flame. Their gleaming eyes now beheld as it were, their leader; the Lady of the Fëanorrim whom no braveheart could deny.

"Now for wrath!" cried Ravenne.

"For wrath!" came the rousing answer.

"Now for vengeance!" she returned.

"For vengeance!" roared the reply.

"Death to our enemy!" she declared.

"Death!" cried the women of the Fëanorrim with voices that rose to a terrible crescendo.

Ravenne raised a hand that presently silenced them. Her lone voice rose above the howling winds and hissing rains, stirring every heart that heard her command.

"Therefore girt yourselves my womenfolk with sword and shield! Arm yourselves with spears! Let shining helms cover heads and bright mail protect torsos. Let horns blow to the westward winds in loud challenge to our foes! Let tall banners be raised and unfurled to reveal our insignia that should fill the enemy's sights from afar. And may they quail at the sight of the Star of Fëanáro!"

She looked down at the warriors who had carried in the injured, and her gaze turned to the wounded men who had seemingly forgotten their agonies, all of whom stood or lay agape with sheer astonishment at what they heard and beheld.

"To you men who may still be doubtful of our strength and resolve, I would say take heed. To think that you all deemed our army's rear to be undefended, reckoning nothing of the great throng that stood deedless behind you!"

As she spoke, she set her sword before her, sweeping its blade above the women's upturned faces. "But I see an army here, and an army of women too! Let the enemy beware of the Ohtatyeronissi of Fëanaro!"

As she said this, she raised her sword high and a cold white flame ran up and down the length of its blade. A strong gust of wind leapt up, thrusting back her rain soaked hair and fully revealed her pale face that was stern and resolute; with eyes that shone bright and fell in the dark. The airs flickered and blinked and Ravenne was wreathed by a blinding flash of lightning, and it seemed to the eyes of all that they beheld a brief vision.

She seemed to have grown in stature, standing before them as a fey being whose glittering eyes of wrath were bent upon them from on high. Yet her face filled all with awe for it held a great majesty; with the chiselled features of some great power of old that radiated a beauty both terrible and worshipful. Her dark hair flared with an aura of power, whose waving strands flowed into a billowing mantle of shadow that was draped about her shoulders and cascaded downwards, swirling about her like a coiling black smoke. Yet in her hand was held a brand of silver flame; a dread weapon that would serve as a beacon of hope to elves and yet as a weapon of death to all their enemies.

Women and men all stared, amazed at the vision of the Lady of the Fëanorrim. Then an earsplitting clap of thunder resounded in the air and the vision faded from sight as swiftly as it had come. Yet it had served its purpose as the din of the storm were now challenged by a great swelling cry that rose from the women of the Fëanorrim that stood there. As grim and resolute as they had been, now their eyes blazed with the resplendent light of Aman as all fear diminished from their hearts beyond recall. Ravenne had roused them to great wrath and the vision of her as a fey maiden of war who would lead them into battle all but committed their resolve.

It was plain that all the people of Fëanor were needed to aid in the defence if they were to attain victory; the women understood that now. Many mothers in the crowd looked to their children who cowered under the canvas of the wains, peering out with wide frightened eyes. Some of these clutched at each other for comfort and a few elder ones now aided with the crying babes, cradling them in their little arms and cooing to them to hush with tiny voices. It seemed the little ones understood the plight of their elders, and sought to aid them bravely in their own small way. A fierce sense of protectiveness overcame the women and silent oaths were then made in their hearts that both father and mother would fight to the death to protect their offspring from harm.

Now the womenfolk surged forward to the wains that held weapons and armour and the guardians stepped aside, staring in wonder as the women swiftly armed themselves. Ravenne, still perched atop the wain, saw the rush of women towards the wains spread northward as the sentiments of her rousing speech passed from mouth to mouth to those out of earshot. It was indeed an amazing sight as the women of the Fëanorrim galvanized their strength. Indeed Fëanor himself could have done no better than Ravenne, daughter of Sailanambar in that glorious hour.

Ravenne leapt down from the wain and strode towards the scout who stood as if mesmerised alongside warriors both wounded and hale. They all beheld her with wide staring eyes, seeing her in a new light. Great as she had been regarded by both men and women of the Fëanorrim, this now elevated her evermore so in their eyes. Now she was as a woman above all others in strength of courage, pride and purpose; a woman whose title as the "Lady of the Fëanorrim" was all but truly vindicated. Awe was in their glance as they silently gazed at her approach.

"My Lady," said the scout, bowing low in courtesy when Ravenne was stood before him.

"Understand what you see here," she said, addressing all the men who were nearby. "The intended valour of our womenfolk should not be hindered by the unheeding command of our lords, who would have us remain deedless in battle save to tend and to comfort. There is more to us than that! Yet know that we shall not abandon the lighter duties assigned to us as we take it upon ourselves to fight as our men fight. Do not worry. We shall be both healers to our wounded, and yet warriors to our foes. Our women can do that! Therefore let our lords count the swords available to them in our defence as to have multiplied. No captain should deny themselves this newfound advantage!"

She turned then to the scout and laid a hand firmly upon his shoulder. "Yet for all my boast and brag of the prowess of our women, I would still be prudent and ask for a little aid. Therefore if you will, ride northward to where our lords Fëanaro and Canafinwë are in the fight. Our cavalry is stationed with their forces and if it is not yet engaged with the enemy, I would have them ride after us to aid in our defence."

The scout bowed low again. "It shall be as you wish my lady," he said, and was swiftly on his horse, plunging into the torrential dark. Yet even before he leapt into his saddle, a howling could be heard in the far distance. The enemy had come!

"Lady Vanyamórë!" said one of the warriors. "Are you sure you know of what you are asking our womenfolk to do?"

Ravenne turned a perilous gaze upon him that had the warrior lower his eyes in an act of withdrawal.
"This choice lies before you O men of the Fëanorrim!" she cried with eyes still flaming upon the one who spoke. "Battle lies east and west, of which your blades shall be a welcome addition to both instances. Yet I and those who follow me know the path that is set before us. Go therefore where you will, but hinder me not!"

With that, Ravenne ran forward towards her warriors. "Let few women stay behind," she cried, "to mind the young ones and tend to the wounded. The rest of you must follow the command to hold yourselves in readiness!"

She passed swiftly through the gathering lines to stand before them, peering westward with squinting eyes in an effort to pierce the torrential dark, but nothing could she yet see. Only eerie howls came to them, riding atop the wailing winds and the hissing rains. She then turned to the great throng that stood behind her who were fair ladies all grim faced, armoured and armed. None seemed dismayed by the rumour of the enemy's approach. Indeed they were ready, but were they enough?

As if reading her mind, one came towards her and bowed. "My Lady, most of the women from the houses of Lord Turcafinwë and Lord Curufinwë have given themselves to your command. Yet your word spreads northward like wildfire, and those of the other houses are sure to follow."

Ravenne nodded and smiled. "I thank you Alcániel. Let word of our departure set forth and urge all who would to take up arms and follow as swiftly as they may. For I deem we shall require all the strength of the Fëanorrim's women if we are to defeat this enemy."

Alcániel bowed. "As you wish my Lady," she said and disappeared into the armoured crowds.

Ravenne unsheathed her sword and turned to her warriors. "Now is the hour my womenfolk!" she cried to them. "The enemy howls but let that not dismay you. Think of our helpless children whom we fight for to protect! Think of the oaths spoken in our hearts of our revenge and the redress of the wrongs done to us by Morgoth! We do not know fear! We cannot conceive defeat! Gather your strength and muster your courage! Forth O Women of Fëanáro! Forth to war!"

She then set her helm upon her head and a great cry of all their voices went up to the black heavens. With that, they leapt forward, moving swiftly over the plain to meet the hounds of Angband.

For indeed it were wolves that came forth, bounding over the plains of Mithrim as the vanguard of the orcish force, howling with slavering jaws and red tongues. Their claws tore at the ground as they hurtled forward, herded into formation by wolf-riders that hemmed them together upon each flank. Further behind came the main host of the enemy; line after line of orcs that held on their way tirelessly with long loping strides; being driven by the dark will of their master.

The orc armies were already in the mountains of Ered Wethrin when Fëanor and his host came to a halt beside lake Mithrim. There they were espied from afar and the orc captains decided to ambush the elves with a two-pronged attack from east and west, hoping to trap the Noldor in the centre and utterly destroy them. Thus this army was sent out early as they had to travel far and with stealth before engaging their enemy. Their ranks were therefore made up of large bold orcs of great stamina and strength, as well as swift wolves and other creatures that were more terrible.

Long was the route they had taken, issuing from the Ered Wethrin to traverse the twelve leagues that spanned the length of lake Mithrim from end to end. They had rested as long as they dared under the shadow of the Mountains of Mithrim before going on warily now, to cover the twelve long leagues back eastward. They moved with great speed as they were anxious to arrive at the appointed time when the greater eastern force should assail the elves with a full frontal attack that would hold them until the surprise from the rear, catching the elves between hammer and anvil. But now the keen eyes of the wolf-riders saw an elven host sweeping towards them and uneasiness took them, seeing that their plan for surprise had failed. Nevertheless, the riders swept out their curved blades, yelling to the wolves to charge.

But even as the wolf-riders cried aloud, the keen eyes of Ravenne and her warrior women saw their enemy from afar. A lightning flash illuminated the landscape, revealing the grassland ahead to slope into an easy depression, at the bottom of which flowed a small stream. The further bank rose a little sharper, receding as a grey plain. The dark returned as the elves came on, flying down the slope. Lightning seared again, blinking in succession, but now the grey distance was dotted with dark shapes that seemed to grow as they drew near.

"Halt!" cried Ravenne with a raised hand. "Fell beasts approach! Let those with spears array themselves swiftly behind me."

Her command was relayed along the battle lines and a long silver tipped hedge was formed behind her. The rain continued to fall heavily, running over helm, mail and sword as watery veins that ran over edges in shimmering rivulets. The lightning continued to flash brightly but the din of thunder was now quelled to a distant rumbling. Soon the wolf baying rolled clearly towards them, and the hearts of many grew fearful as they could clearly see with elven sight, the creatures that now bore down upon them. The vile beasts were scarcely to be imagined in the most nightmarish of dreams.

"Fear not!" cried Ravenne as if sensing the rising dread of the women about her. "On my command let the foremost line release their spears and swiftly make way for those behind!"

The women clasped tightly at their spear shafts, and some made silent prayers to the Valar they had abandoned in Aman.

"Throw only on my command!" Ravenne repeated. "And aim true, for every spear must count!"

The howling wolves came on, thrusting forward at a greater pace as they bounded down the long slope.
"Let spears fly!" came Ravenne's command.

The foremost line of women stepped forward and heaved their spears at their enemies. Point and shaft sped through the airs in high arcs and came down upon the wolves as deadly bolts from out of the dark sky. Whether it were skill or fate, each javelin found a mark, piercing fur and hide to wound or slay. Wolves crashed to the ground with their long snouts buried in the mud. Others were bowled over by those that fell before them, yet many of these were slain by the next wave of spears that came down upon them, and the next. Then the wolvish onset was halted and many turned tail, being mortally afraid of the deadly spears that had killed and maimed so many of their number.

But the wolf-rider captains were filled with rage and some came on, leaping over the stream and charging up towards the elvish lines that were now very near. Their wolf steeds sprang forward in great bounds, cunningly steered to elude the flying spears. Then they hurled themselves into the elvish defence, scattering the lines as they tore with gaping jaws and rent with their sharp claws at those unfortunate to fall beneath them. But the Ohtatyeronissi swiftly recovered and came to the aid of their stricken, hewing down both wolf and rider with vengeful swords. Soon all the attackers were slain and the battle-lines were swiftly reformed. The remaining wolf-riders turned to follow the wolves, fleeing back westward into the gloom, and blowing their guttural horns wildly as they ran.

A great cry went up and swords were raised high in victory, but Ravenne blew her horn to silence them.
"Do not cheer my warrior women!" she cried. "The wolves are defeated but they are only the vanguard. We have yet to face our enemy's main host."

Her eyes looked to the many dark shapes lying motionless on the ground ahead of them.
"Yet take heed my bravehearts!" she continued. "As we are indeed victorious in our first test against the enemy."

She turned to look about her and saw the dead orcs and their fell steeds, yet lying there also were a few brave maidens. There were women who stood around these bodies, lamenting sorrowfully for the loss of their friends.

"Nay! Do not weep!" Ravenne said to them with tears welling in her own eyes. "There is no time to mourn as our enemy awaits us. Let the valiant fallen lay awhile in peace. Now we must go forward with vengeance hot in our hearts. Let the orcs tremble with fear at our onset. Forth my Ohtatyeronissi!"

Surging forward once again, they leapt over the stream and drove up the far slope, wrenching their spears free from the corpses of the wolves that had fallen. The ground levelled and stretched before them as a field of wet grass that flashed grey in the storm light. Soon the land rose up ahead to a shallow ridge, atop of which stood a long line of shadows. The elves came on until they clearly saw the enemy up ahead that stood upon the crest of the rise, bordered by the lake to the left and stretching on into the northerly dark. Ravenne called for a halt as her grey eyes warily surveyed the orc-lines that stood, unmoving and ominous in their silence. Her army arrayed itself behind her into two phalanxes, with the house of Celegorm to the left and the house of Curufin to the right. Yet the stretch of the enemy exceeded that of the elves, far outnumbering Ravenne and her warriors. The rains continued to pour, the winds howled and lightning flashed, illuminating the dark figures upon the ridge with stark clarity against the churning clouds above them.

The elves hesitated. "What do they wait for my Lady?" asked one who stood nearby.

Ravenne was silent for a moment as she was unsure herself. Perhaps they were afraid to attack, seeing how their wolves were routed.

"They stand in fear and doubt, Maquetimë," she said at last. "They did not think we would beat their wolves back. Now it shall be as I said before. Let them see our standard unfurled before their eyes, and so strike fear into their black hearts. The Star of Feanaro shall claim its due...the lives of our enemies!"

She motioned to one who held a long black staff with a cloth wrapped and tied to one end. "Wendel," she called. "Unfurl our banner!"

The standard bearer did as she was told, her nimble fingers swiftly untying the golden bindings that were wound about the silken cloth. She raised the long pole and the Star of Fëanor rippled free in the gusts of the storm. All the women looked up to it with stirring pride in their hearts. The command was given and they resumed their march towards the enemy. Yet if the orcs were daunted or dismayed, they did not show it. They all stood statue-like, as dark sentinels that barred the way with hidden menace and threatening silence.

The elves were about four hundred yards from the enemy lines when the orcs showed movement. Each raised an arm to the sky with the other drawn back. The elves continued to march forward, heedless of their imminent peril, yet many noted the orcs sudden change of stance with unease. A great cry went up and swept downwind and the elves saw slight movements of the orcs arms. There came a hiss that was sharper than that of the rains and Ravenne suddenly realised to her dismay.

"Raise your shields!" she cried frantically. "The arrows of the enemy are upon us!"

The women raised their shield arms over their heads, crouching low as they did this and the arrows fell upon a field of burnished steel and clattered aside to the ground. Then the warriors rose but there were some who slumped aside and fell dead to the ground. Ravenne cursed herself for her mistake and looked with sorrow upon those who had fallen, chiding herself inwardly for her blunder.

Now she turned back to the orcs with cold anger. "On I say!" she shouted. "The fallen shall be avenged!"

They all surged forward, moving at a quicker pace. Again a deadly hail was sent against them which most fended off. Another shower rained upon them but now the enemy was close, no more than a furlong away. When they rose, Ravenne leapt forward at a swift run and the rest followed suit. They sped over the field with blazing eyes and kindled wrath as the battle fury rose in their hearts. The orc archers attacks had failed and they were filled with dread at their enemy's swift approach. Many stepped back with frightened glances, but the elvish hearts were uplifted upon seeing the orcs terror and their voices rose to a great shout; a war-cry that came loud and terrible to the ears of the soldiery of Angband.

Now Ravenne and her force were no more than fifty yards from the enemy lines when she called for a sudden halt.
"Spears!" she cried and as before, the warrior women cast their deadly weapons at the enemy.

Many orc archers fell and their lines jostled in frantic retreat as wave after wave of spears were cast at them. However, the panicked archers were thrust aside by the orcish foot soldiers who had waited behind their screen. They were large brutes who were heavily armoured and bore sable shields that were embossed with hideous faces. They also carried curved scimitars and long spears with jagged edged tips. They yelled defiantly and set their shields before them, creating a swift wall of defence that barred the deadly flight of the elvish spears which now clattered against their protection to fall harmlessly to the grass. Even so, the elvish spears were spent and Ravenne put her horn to her lips and sounded the final charge. Swords were drawn, the light of which was like a field of reeds glittering with a cold silver sheen. Then the warrior women leapt after her at a swift run, driving up the ridge to meet the orc army in a great clash of ringing steel. So began in earnest, the first battle of the Ohtatyeronissi in Middle-earth, and it was a grim meeting.

The orcs withstood the jarring force of the elvish press and a brutal hand to hand combat ensued. At its beginning, neither side gained the upper hand, for though the valour of the womenfolk of Fëanor was very great, they were still outnumbered by the orcs who fought fiercely in defence. Indeed, things soon went ill for the warrior women as the orc-lines surpassed by far, the stretch of the elves outermost phalanx. This left a great portion of orcs unfought and these surged forward to box in and attack the elves right flank. With them came what remained of the wolvish vanguard, and these now attacked with savage ferocity as they sought to avenge their defeat.

But at the forefront of battle fought Ravenne, Sailanambar's daughter, and the fervour of her attack could not be stayed. Those who fought beside her seemed to feed off her prowess so that they drove on as a deadly company, deep into the enemy lines and no orc could withstand them.
Report of their valiant effort was relayed to the orc captain who stood with the rear guard and he was filled with wrath. With a great shout he called to him his shock troops that had been withheld, deeming that he did not need them as he thought his army went to a massacre and not to a full blown battle.

Yet now he saw that the tide was slowly turning against his favour and his forces were in need of aid. Therefore he loosed upon the elves a foe that none of the Noldor had yet seen. They came forward now, roaring like great beasts; standing broad and tall with huge strong limbs that were covered by a grey horny hide. Their faces were bestial and hideous and contorted in rage. They bore large bucklers and wielded heavy clubs and huge iron hammers. Thus it was that the trolls of Angband were first released upon the Noldor, for none were in the fighting eastward.

Now the orc captain raised a black horn that was graven with blood red runes of dark magic. He put it to his foul lips and blew a blast that shook the surrounding airs with a deep and guttural call, like the cry of some behemoth that lived far beneath the earth and now rose in wrath from the abyss. In that hideous cry was an evil power that filled foes with dread, yet enheartened allies. The warrior women all wavered upon hearing that terrible warcry, yet the orcs rallied and its deep voice goaded the trolls to a madness of purpose. On the beasts came, beating aside the orcs that stood in their way with their clubs and hammers as they maimed and killed their own folk in their frenzy to find their foes.

Ravenne and those who fought beside her wavered and lowered their weapons, and the heavy tread of the approaching trolls filled them with dread. Then they stayed their fervent attack in fearful anticipation and the orcs surged away, clearing a wide space about them as the trolls burst into the ring. The elves regarded the fell beasts with trembling gasps and wide terrified eyes as the trolls roared and bellowed their dire challenge. All about the wide ring were orcs who waved their weapons in the air, snarling and yelling in foul tongues that urged their champions to smite the insolent elvish company that had cut a deadly path deep into their lines. Ravenne and her companions suddenly realized with alarm that they were now cut off from the main host, and completely surrounded by a dark waving field of hate. Their bravery and valour had betrayed and entrapped them without hope, leaving them encircled by a multitude of enemies and faced with a new breed of fell beast by whose sheer size alone seemed an insurmountable foe.

Ravenne lowered her sword and shield and bowed her head as flickering lines of glistening rain cascaded from her helm. Her resilient will had been cowed at last; her bold defiance was worn away; hope had finally abandoned her. She raised her head wearily and turned to the others who glanced fearfully about them as they drew closer together with small unsteady steps. She turned her gaze eastward, wondering how Fëanor and his sons fared in battle. Perhaps they too were defeated, and even now lay dead upon the field with the enemy standing triumphant over their lifeless bodies. She then looked to the west, and thought of Aman that stood yonder. The words of Mandos to them in Araman now came to her thoughts.

"For blood ye shall render blood, and beyond Aman ye shall dwell in Death's shadow!"
TAKEN FROM THE SILMARILLION; CHAPTER 9 "OF THE FLIGHT OF THE NOLDOR"
A bitter grin came upon Ravenne's face. 'So the Curse that was prophesied by Mandos now comes to pass for us,' she thought to herself and sighed.
"Thus ended the valour of the Ohtatyeronissi," she said softly. "A bright spark that was lit in soft hearts, yet foundered in the dark to be extinguished by sorrowful death."

But even as she spoke, her thoughts went to Fëanor's reply.
"We shall not suffer from cowardice, from cravens or the fear of cravens. Therefore I say that we will go on and the deeds that we shall do shall be a matter of song until the last days of Arda."
TAKEN FROM THE SILMARILLION; CHAPTER 9 "OF THE FLIGHT OF THE NOLDOR"
"We shall not suffer from cowardice or from cravens or the fear of cravens," she repeated, and turned to see the trolls were now advancing; their heavy steps echoing in her ears.

Yet Fëanor's defiant answer to the Valar's ominous prophecy now rekindled a resilience in her spirit. They would not suffer from cowardice, nor from fear of the servants of Morgoth. She had wavered and almost fallen to despair, but no more. Despair was for those who had no hope but she and her warriors yet lived, and as long as they drew breath there was hope; hope in glory, even in defeat. The deeds of the Ohtatyeronissi in battle would be dearly bought, paid for with their lives, yet would be well bought and indeed fit to live in uplifting song forever. She would not forget that.

With those rallying thoughts she drew her own horn to her lips and let loose a mighty blast in defiance of the threatening cry of the orc horn. To her wonder she was answered from afar by many horns blowing in the distance, whose cries came to her as joyous music borne upon a warm comforting breeze. The orcs were silenced and lowered their weapons, and the trolls halted their advance. The surrounded elves all turned to their leader who stood listening. A smile formed upon Ravenne's face with slow realization. It was plain their reinforcements had finally arrived.

"Suffer not from fear my brave warriors," Ravenne cried. "Be it the orc, the wolf or the great beasts of Angband, all shall taste our wrath! If death and the halls of Mandos are all we are to reap this day, let us in turn send as many of these foul creatures that our valour allows to the abyss that awaits them! Glory is ours to attain my womenfolk! Let us achieve it here and now!"

She raised again her sword. "Fell deeds call! Death and glory await! Forth my Ohtatyeronissi!"

Again the warrior women took heart and sprang forward after Ravenne to boldly assail the trolls. The monsters bellowed their rage as they essayed to smite the warrior women and all their impudence of courage, but the elves were too swift for their giant limbs. Ravenne led the attack; darting under her enemy; now springing to the side; now suddenly leaping into the air, performing a graceful dance of death. She swung her sword with swift hefty strokes and her flaming blade hewed at the scaly grey hide and it gave way, gushing forth a smoking black blood. The troll suddenly gave a mighty roar and fell to the ground, dead.

A cold fear seized the orcs upon witnessing the fall of that which they had deemed to be unassailable, but the warrior women cried aloud and swept into the troll lines as flashes of silver in the dark; now here, now there; leaping, thrusting and hewing to deadly effect. More trolls were falling. Nevertheless there were many warrior women who were caught by stray blows and beaten down with stricken helms and dinted shields. Those that fell were thereafter crushed underfoot; so great was the rage of the trolls to stamp out their impudence. Yet the monsters could not stay the valour of the elven women who continued to slay them with lightning strokes. Report came again to the ears of the orc captain of the imminent defeat of his champions and after a disbelieving silence, he gathered his bodyguard about him and thrust forward towards the fray.

Elsewhere the battle had raged on, yet grew more desperate for the warrior women. The elvish left flank had fared better, for they held the orcs at bay but had gained no ground themselves. The fighting at the centre was very fierce, for the Ohtatyeronissi there were beaten back and separated from Ravenne and her company. Now they sought to cut their way back through the orcish ranks in a desperate effort to come to the aid of their leader. But the orcs vigorously defended their advantage, deeming that the death of the trapped elvish leader would render their enemies in disarray, and the battle would become a rout. The fight however went ill for the right flank as the elvish phalanx fought upon three fronts, boxed in to the front, to the right and to the rear by their enemy's numerical advantage.

Also, the wolves were used to terrible effect, leaping forth and lashing out swiftly with their great claws, yet cunningly bounding away when the elves would rally against them. But even in their hour of despair, horns sounded in the east and the elven women lift up their voices with cries of joy as reinforcements that were the remaining houses of the women of the Feanorrim came to their aid. The houses of Caranthir and Amrod came first and fell upon the orcs that had assailed the rear of the right phalanx who were the women of the house of Curufin. Here the orcs wavered and were overcome but the orcish numbers were still greater and more swirled around to assail the new forces right flank. Others gathered to hinder the approaching houses of Maglor, Maedhros and Fëanor. So battle was fully joined at last and for a while, victory for either side hung upon a knife edge.

To the forefront however, Ravenne and her company now stood upon the carcasses of their felled enemies, looking down at the cowering orcs who stared up at them with disbelieving eyes. Their self belief; their prowess and fate had seen them through a grim fight and now all the trolls lay dead. But the orc captain came through his lines with his bodyguard and halted a moment as his gaze fell upon his dead champions. He then raised his bloodshot eyes to the elves with deadly hatred, and slowly drew his weapon, a great battle axe, and beckoned to his enemy to come for him. Ravenne nodded and leapt down to the ground, accepting the challenge. They stood apart, facing one another, each weighing the perceived strengths and weaknesses of the other.

The orc captain was not tall but very broad with long powerful arms and thickset legs. He was sable armoured and wore a caged mask of gruesome design. Besides his axe he also carried a sheathed sword and curved daggers in his belt. His bodyguard were armed like him and these gathered behind their captain, growling and snarling menacingly. The women of Ravenne's company now leapt to their leaders back, ready for this new challenge but Ravenne held up a hand. The orc captain wanted single combat with his elvish counterpart. He would get it.

They both came forward in a slow approach, stalking the other's movements like hunting cats. Suddenly the orc captain rushed forward and attacked savagely as Ravenne fought back to fend off his ire. Their blows were swift and hard but the captain seemed at an advantage, for he had the heavier weapon and yet handled it with great skill. He was also surprisingly agile for his build and far more adept in combat than any that Ravenne had so far faced. On they fought, wielding blow after blow and fending off attack after attack. But Ravenne was wearied from battle whereas the captain was still fresh upon the field.

She parried an axe blow and drove through with her sword but the captain leapt aside, pivoted and swung. A lightning twist of her torso saved Ravenne from certain death but the axe blade was too close, and sheared through surcoat and mail at the waist and she fell back with a cry, clutching a gruesome wound. Her horn that was fastened to her belt was caught by the blow and lay shattered in pieces upon the wet grass.

The orc captain lift up his head and gave a horrible gurgling yell of triumph and his bodyguard and the surrounding orcs raised their weapons, whooping and howling their glee. Ravenne's companions leapt to their fallen leader but a swift upheld hand stayed them. She rose slowly now with eyes blazing with a cold fire and it seemed to her warriors that she became the figure in the vision they had all beheld. Their fell champion stood again before their eyes; tall and menacing within a mantle of swirling shadow; seemingly invulnerable to wounds and impervious to dismay. So it seemed to the orcs also, for all fell silent, their yells dying upon their lips as they stared with growing terror at the fell being with the terrible bright eyes that now stood before them.

The orc captain had been advancing, seeking to finish his wounded adversary but now he halted in his tracks, aghast in his sudden fear. For a moment, the captain crouched; his body quivering as though it trembled. Then with a hideous cry of fear and rage, he launched himself forward with his axe raised in desperate courage. But Ravenne sprang forth to meet her foe and quick as lightning she sheared in two the shaft of his raised weapon and even as the captain stumbled by, she switched her blade and stabbed behind. The blade pierced him through the small of his back and did not stop until it emerged from his chest.

The orc captain stood erect for a moment with a blank stare but Ravenne wrenched free her weapon and with a swift stroke, beheaded her foe, whose body fell heavily to the grass. The unbelieving silence that followed was broken by the captain's bodyguard who were enraged beyond fear and erupted in a flurry of swords and loud cries towards the elven leader. But Ravenne's maidens swept to her defence and shattered the bodyguards onset in their wrath. Yet even as they leapt forward to protect their valiant mistress, a murmur rose all about them that grew to a clamour of many orc voices crying dread tidings.

"More horns sound to the east! The cavalry of the enemy bears down upon us!"

Then fear and dismay seized the orcs. Their champions were destroyed and their captain lay dead, rendering them leaderless with more of their enemies bearing down upon them. Swiftly their lines wavered, broke and fled. The orcs sudden surge away from battle surprised the warrior women at first as many did not hear the horns of the coming aid. Yet seeing the orcs flee all but enheartened them and they leapt forward and gave chase, hewing their foes down in the rout.

Now the cavalry came racing across the grey plains of Mithrim and at their head rode Maglor with the knights of his household. Swiftly they saw the fleeing enemy and doubled their pace to cut off their escape.
At the forefront of the rout were the wolves and a few remaining wolf-riders, howling in fear as they fled. But the horses of the Noldor were born and bred in the land of the Valar, and had been nourished by lands of great potency that gave their sinews a strength far beyond that of the beasts of Angband. They swept towards the wolves like a flowing tide and swiftly overtook them.

There, Maglor and his riders enveloped the fleeing enemy and struck them down with flashing swords and crushed them under pounding hooves, destroying them all. Then the cavalry lines reformed; turned to face the oncoming orcs and with a loud horn-blast, charged back towards them. The orcs were filled with a madness of fear for they were caught in the very trap they had hoped to ensnare their enemies with; between hammer and anvil. Behind came the Ohtatyeronissi with fell swords and flaming eyes and before them came the pounding rumour of the elvish cavalry.

Suddenly a deep horn was sounded that shook the airs with its call of doom. Its echoes grew louder and deeper and all the orcs trembled at the dint of it. Some cast themselves upon their faces and covered their ears with their claws. Indeed the orcs were greatly dismayed for all knew that it were the winding of their captain's horn that had the power to fill their enemies with fear. But now that fear was turned against them, blown no doubt by some bold elf. The orcs cowered in terror of the Ohtatyeronissi and in terror of the cavalry that bore down upon them. Their host swayed this way and that, turning from fear to fear with the horn call of their doom resounding in their hearts.

On came the warrior women with raised spears and sweeping swords, blowing many horns in joyous answer to the fell horn call of the orcs. Louder sounded the thunderous hooves of the cavalry, sweeping forth like the winds of a gale that heralded death for all who would be caught in the wreck of its ruin. The orcs reeled and screamed, casting aside all their weapons. In a final madness of terror they streamed down to the lake and wailing in utter despair, flung themselves into its waiting waters.

For Ravenne, much passed like a swift dream as she stood victorious over her fallen enemy. She was vaguely aware of her warriors flying past as they sought to defend her from the wrath of the orc captain's bodyguard. Faint to her ears came the winding of distant horns and the shadowy shapes about her began to surge away. She swayed a little where she stood and clutched at her wound from which came a throbbing pain. Suddenly she was knocked down and fell to her knees, fighting an overwhelming dizziness that threatened to turn all to darkness. The shock of her wound and the weariness of battle now took its toll and she almost swooned. Yet her iron will held firm and she did not fall to the ground in a faint but forced herself to look up, and saw moving shadows all about her that were dim figures rushing by. Her eyes came to rest upon the headless body and beside it lay a great sable horn. She was reminded of her own that lay shattered in many pieces upon the ground.

"He destroyed mine so I shall take his," she thought and leaned forward to swipe the horn from the grass.

She gazed at its hideous design and flinched in disgust, raising her hand as if to fling it away. Yet she paused and looked at it again. Suddenly Ravenne felt firm hands grasp her shoulders and found that she was surrounded by her comrades who knelt beside her with concern on their faces as they pried her bloodied hand off her wound in a bid to assess her hurt. She instinctively pulled her hand away and replaced it over the terrible gash.

"Let me be," she said.

"But you are hurt Lady Vanyamórë," said one in answer. "Let us aid you for the wound is deep."

Ravenne shook her head. "It is deep but far from mortal. Rather see it as the enemy's fitting gift to me upon our first meeting. I shall cherish the mark it leaves once it has healed."

A look of dismay passed over her companions faces but Ravenne laughed. "Come, help me to my feet. What is this great commotion that surrounds me. I was knocked to the ground by shadows, or so it seemed as I stood dazed. But the swoon has passed and I am myself again. Tell me Alcániel, what has happened?"

They gently raised her to her feet and she looked about in utter surprise. She was surrounded by all the surviving company that had fought at her side yet beyond them were other elvish warriors, flying past them as they swept westward. The orcs had vanished!

"The enemy is routed as aid finally came to us in the form of our cavalry," said Alcániel. "My Lady, we have our victory!" she added with a smile.

Ravenne turned to look westward, and now the cries of her warriors and the distant blaring of the horns of the cavalry came to her ears. Fainter still came the screams of the orcs.

"Victory!" she whispered and a wind blew in from the west and suddenly, the rain ceased and the clouds broke.

Silver orbs twinkled through torn floating wisps as their radiance outlined the grasses and nearby waters with a shimmering pale hue that sparkled playfully as though the light of the stars were rejoicing. The storm of the world and of war had passed and calm was returned. Yet the quiet was suddenly shattered by a deep call, for Ravenne took up the horn of her foe and blew a blast after her enemies. The winds changed and carried its echoes of dread westward, engulfing the orcs like a mounting tidal wave of dark fear that filled them with madness.

So it was that the Ohtatyeronissi finally met with Maglor and his riders upon the northern shore of Lake Mithrim, and all turned to stare at its frothing waters. Dark forms were flailing in the waves and the airs were filled with gurgling cries. But swiftly the orcish commotion lessened and the noise of their cries died down as more disappeared beneath the water's surface and did not rise again. Soon the flailing upon the grey surface was stilled and the elves no longer heard the fearful wails. The enemy was swallowed up and Lake Mithrim subsided to sparkle under the renewed starlight.

All was quiet save the gentle whistle of a westerly breeze. Maglor alighted from his horse and removed his helm. Those women that stood nearby immediately bowed low in recognition, but he grasped one who was nearest him and stopped her act of obeisance.

"Nay valiant one!" he said to her. "In this instance you will dispense with the show of honour. It is not for you to take the bow."

Then all the horsemen alighted from their steeds and came forward to stand beside their lord.
"Men of the Fëanorrim," Maglor cried. "Give honour to the worthy women of the Noldor!"

They all removed their helms and bowed low to the warrior women. Yet even as they stood with lowered heads, a shout went up.

"Behold our leader! The Lady of the Ohtatyeronissi comes. Let all here show her honour!"

With that, all the women joined the men in bowing low as Ravenne came up, limping gently as she was aided by Alcániel and surrounded by her company. She came to stand before Maglor's bowed form and he rose to look upon her with a warm smile.

"Muinë osellë," he said, taking her hand. "I am at a loss for words. What you have done here in the service of our people is..." He could say no more but Ravenne smiled.

"What we women have done," she corrected. "Yet do not be surprised Ortorno, for we only asked of ourselves that which every man who fights, pledges in his heart. We asked for the courage and conviction to put ourselves in gravest peril as a matter of duty to protect our people. That was our belief and it has proven well indeed. For that I am glad."

Maglor smiled but then noticed her bloodied hand that was held at her side. Distress clouded his fair features. "But you are wounded Ravenne," he said, coming close and putting his hand over hers.

"Let me alone," she said, shrugging away. "I am fine."

Maglor slowly shook his head. "Ravenne," he implored.

She waved aside his concern. "I take it the battle has gone well with you men."

The prince looked at her a moment and sighed. "Yes it has," he said. "The enemy has been overcome and is even now being pursued to the mountains."

She turned to look upon her army. They had done deeds of surpassing valour and had won the day. Yet there was more to it for a boldness and courage was awakened in these women that would hold them in good stead in the hard times to come. For there would be hard times, that was plain. True, this was a victory, yet also a warning to the Noldor that the fight would not be easy. The Fëanorrim would need to shore up all their strength if they ever hoped to defeat Morgoth, for this was but the first test of many. But Ravenne let her pride swell. Now was not the time for grim thought. She would enjoy the moment. She unsheathed her sword and raised it high above her head.

"Victory!" she cried as loud as her lungs would allow.

All the women and men raised their weapons and answered her with a deafening roar, "Victory is ours!"

They began to make their way back to the camp. Ravenne was placed upon Maglor's horse and he walked beside her, surrounded by his riders and Ravenne's company. Behind them followed the rest of the Ohtatyeronissi. Here and there they passed the bodies of orcs that were slain in the rout but soon they came upon the battlefield and halted, all stricken by the grievous sight. There lay most of the bodies of their elven women and these were many. Some of the warrior women went forward, weeping softly as they fell to their knees beside those dead that they knew, cradling their lifeless bodies in their arms. Ravenne bowed her head in grief. No matter how justified she may have been, she still blamed herself for these deaths. She felt a firm hand placed upon her knee.

"It is hard I know," said Maglor sorrowfully. "Yet this is the way of war. To participate is to risk one's life but I do not doubt that each valiant lady here knew and made peace with that. Do not blame yourself Ravenne. They fought and died well."

Ravenne did not answer, yet a pale smile passed over her face for a brief moment and was gone. She then turned to Alcaniel who walked beside her.

"Let the greater part of the Ohtatyeronissi remain here to watch over the valiant fallen. The rest shall continue on to the camp and so return with wains with which to bear our dead." Alcaniel bowed and with a few others of the company, went forth giving her lady's command to the rest of the warrior women. Then Ravenne made as if to alight from Maglor's horse but he held her in place.

"Oselle!" he cried. "What are you doing?"

"Do not hinder me!" she answered with flashing eyes. "My place is with my warriors Ortorno, be they dead or alive."

"And what of your wound," Maglor replied. "It is crudely dressed and yet needs to be tended with care for I deem it is deep and perilous. For there is more to the weapons of the enemy than that of being mere iron and steel, Ravenne. Those with eyes to see can tell that the enemy's blades are woven with dark spells and smeared with foul poisons that might do evil even when their wielders are vanquished. Come, it will do you no good to remain here, and neither will it be to the betterment of your warriors were they to lose their victorious leader through some evil sickness that might come of this wound were it not properly tended."

Ravenne gave Maglor a dark look but knew he was right. She gave him a curt nod and they began forward again, with only the remainder of her company and Maglor's knights. Alcaniel remained to oversee and aid in the gathering of their dead along with the rest of the Ohtatyeronissi. The fallen were placed side by side with arms folded upon their breasts, and cloaks were laid over them while they slept.

Soon Ravenne and Maglor came to those fallen women who were slain by the first onset of the wolves. They were few and Ravenne bid their bodies be laid upon the horses and carried. They were nearing the camp when they saw a large group of riders galloping towards them.

Maglor turned to Ravenne and she nodded. "Help me down," she said.

She eased into his waiting arms and slid from the saddle, wincing a little from the pain of her ghastly wound. The women gathered closely about her; uncertainty and a little fear could be seen in their eyes. The riders swiftly approached, sitting tall and imposing in their saddles, with tall helms and mail coats flashing in the starlight. They reined in and alighted from their horses, and their leader gave his reins to the tallest among them and came forward to stand before the women. His keen starry eyes surveyed them at random, until they paused and narrowed when he saw the slain lying across the backs of the horses. He then removed his helm to a cascading flurry of dark hair and looked up. The expression on his pale face was stern, and his piercing eyes sought Ravenne with a hard glint.

"What report do you have for me Canafinwe?" he asked as he continued to stare relentlessly at her.

"My lord," replied Maglor. "Our womenfolk have done deeds of surpassing valour and return victorious from battle. The enemy to our rear has been utterly destroyed: a deed that was only achieved by their great courage and deadly prowess."

"And by whose authority was the command given to rally our womenfolk together and commit them to battle?" asked the leader with his fiery eyes still fixed upon Ravenne, who cast her quenched glance aside.

"It was I my lord," she said in a soft voice.

"It was you," echoed the leader. "So you defied my order that our women should not fight."

"Grant me the permission to speak freely my lord," said Ravenne. Fëanor gave a curt nod.

"It was before the walls of Alqualondë that you forbid the women to fight and I hearkened to your command. Yet you agreed that we should nevertheless receive training in the arts of warfare, so as to have the skill to defend ourselves at need. And that has proven well, for even as you fought the orcs while we women stood behind in obedience to your command, the enemy came from the west, hoping to assail our people upon two fronts. With all our men fighting eastward we had no choice but to defend ourselves and our children."

Now she raised her head to look directly into the eyes of the king. "Yet if you deem that we have done ill my lord, then I take full blame for our actions since it were I who roused our womenfolk to war."

"Indeed you shall take full blame, daughter of Sailanambar," said Fëanor. "For by your deeds have you disrupted the customs of elves, setting our womenfolk to do strange deeds. Yet long have I known your true mind and purpose!"

Ravenne's eyes widened with vulnerable surprise.

"Ever have you sought to appear as a lord among elves and less a lady, purposely subduing your natural womanly instincts for some unknown end. It has been to me both troubling and intriguing to have so fair a lady think so little of the womanhood that is your due. Yet Sailanambar never begrudged the gift of a daughter into his household, so I have wondered much as to why you behave as you do. But now you have encouraged your strange ways into the hearts of all our womenfolk, and expect me to condone what you have done."

Ravenne gazed at Fëanor with a rising fear that the shrewd king had discerned her innermost secrets and would blatantly reveal them to her shame. Her eyes wavered as he spoke, glistening with the slow welling of emotion long held in check by a festering bitterness. But Fëanor's returned stare hardened.

"The truth is that you leapt at the chance to fight, neither waiting for my counsel or blessing in your endeavour. Swiftly you were off ere any news of that latest threat was revealed to me or any of our captains. And so you were followed heedlessly by our women who were besotted by your rousing words. All this so as to fulfil your obscure dream of becoming a warrior, fighting gallantly with sword and shield, sweeping away the enemy through deeds of legendary prowess. But know this Ravenne. Dreams may turn into nightmares, and you could have found yourself and all those who went with you in evil plight, to the ruin of all. Did you ever think of that?"

Ravenne trembled as Fëanor's grim voice relentlessly bore into the truths of her conduct. Her wide eyes lowered sullenly and she bowed her head, standing dejected before her lord.

"And if that had happened what would the soldiery of Fëanaro be returning to?" Fëanor continued. "The cries of babes whose mothers had all gone to the grave and would no longer be there to care for their young. Mothers who would no longer tend to their households. Maidens who would no longer grace our sights with their beauty, and delight us with the music of their voices. Maidens who would never love and conceive children who would grow to be the next generation of the Fëanorrim, replenishing the numbers of those lost in the long conflict against the enemy. The very backbone of our people would have been destroyed, the grief of which is not to be imagined for the men who would endure the bitterness, the pain and the loss."

Ravenne stared at the ground, her eyes blinded by the tears she fought back with diminishing success. She wanted to raise her head and proudly defend herself, but she could not. Part of her knew Fëanor was right. She had been selfish, playing a game with peril by jeopardizing her people in her schemes. Her thoughts went back to the battle and conjured the many dead women strewn upon the field. The guilt came yet again, intensifying to despair. She clutched at her wound, the pain of which filled all her senses with a piercing ache. She began to sway where she stood, feeling weak and faint.

"I cannot ignore what you have done," Fëanor resumed. "Therefore kneel before me and receive my swift judgement!"

Then Maglor stepped forward. "Father I must protest!" he cried imploringly, but Fëanor raised a hand to silence him.

The women there all drew closer to their lady, fearfully hesitant as to whether they should put themselves before their captain and beg for mercy in a desperate bid to spare Ravenne the undeserved wrath of their Lord, or to look on with helpless obedience to their king and his stern decree. They stood clutching at each other in their distress. They all could not believe the treatment their captain now received from their king. How could Fëanor wither Ravenne in such a manner after the great deeds she had done for him.

The tallest of the warriors who stood there now came forward and bowed his head to Fëanor's ear. "Father, I do not think this is wise," he said in a low voice. "Whatever the circumstances of her actions, Ravenne has nevertheless returned with victory. Is what she has done so evil as to negate her valiant win over the enemy?"

"I did not ask for your counsel Nelyafinwë," said Fëanor with a swift wave of dismissal.

Maedhros stepped back, shaking his head. "She is our sister," he muttered under his breath, but his father heard him.

"I know what she is," he returned. "In more ways than you perceive!" He turned again to Ravenne's forlorn figure. "On your knees," he said, pointing to the ground.

Ravenne complied, slowly bending her legs to lower herself to the wet grass. Suddenly, Fëanor unsheathed his great sword which rang with cold purpose as the blade cleared the jewel encrusted scabbard, and shone piercingly in the starlight. The women gasped in horror and Maedhros took a quick step forward, but Maglor placed himself before Ravenne's kneeling form with both arms raised.

"Nay father, what madness is this?!" he cried. "Say what you will but this cannot be! Where in all that is fair and honourable is it said that valour unlooked for should receive death as thanks? How can you desecrate Ravenne's deeds that have served only to aid our cause against Morgoth."

"Be silent!" said Fëanor with a flash of his sharp eyes. "I am king of the Noldor and shall judge my subjects as I please. Do not presume that because you are my son you are exempt from my wrath. Hinder me not Canafinwë!"

An incredulous look animated Maglor's face as he gazed at his father, but he slowly stepped aside and stood with bowed head in a posture of absolute defeat.

"I cannot believe it," he muttered, but Fëanor stepped towards the kneeling lady. The gentle sobbing and weeping of the warrior women could be heard in the background. They were all on their knees like their leader.

But Fëanor slowly raised his sword, ignoring them all. "For disobeying the express will of her lord, I Fëanaro son of Finwe, and High King of the Noldor hereby sentence to death Vanyamórë Ravenne, daughter of Sailanambar of Tirion!"

The sword came down to the anguished cries of the women and gasps of the knights. Maedhros and Maglor turned their faces aside and closed their eyes, both muttering an impotent prayer.
"May the Valar forgive us!"

Ravenne was beyond caring and had also closed her eyes, seeking the darkness of a mounting swoon that threatened to overwhelm her senses. She felt the blade upon her left shoulder and then her right. There was no pain; no agonizing release into the realm of spirits. She opened her eyes and willed herself to look up. She stared for a moment, confused at what she saw. Feanor looked down at her with a gentle smile upon his face. The flat of his blade was still rested upon her shoulder, and he raised it as he offered her his hand.

"Arise brave maiden," he said in a gentle tone. "You are hereby reborn and shall henceforth be known to all the Noldor as Fëanariel, Lady of the Ohtatyeronissi."

Ravenne hesitated a moment before she gave Fëanor her trembling hand, and he aided her to her feet. The women were still on their knees, embracing one another with gasps and tears of joy. Maglor turned to his brother and gave a long sigh of relief as Maedhros nodded to him in return. But Ravenne gazed into Feanor's eyes, confused and overwhelmed.

"My lord?" she whispered.

Feanor turned to his knights and those around him. "Let all here bear witness to the knighthood I have bestowed. Lady Fëanariel has proven herself far beyond the call of duty, setting herself at odds with all that was expected of her so as to rise to the challenge I set for our people. How could I not understand that! I who defied the Valar so as to set right the wrongs of the enemy." He looked again at Ravenne and caressed her cheek.

"Dearest daughter," he said. "No greater love could I feel for you as I do now, not even were you from the womb of Nerdanel herself. Henceforth you shall in all things be treated by our people as one of the Royal House of Finwë. You shall take your place beside the honoured Lords of the Fëanorrim as a Lady with a seat at Council. The Ohtatyeronissi shall hereafter become a company of bold women of your choosing, to serve under your command and abide by the rules you set for them. This is my decree. Let all hear my word. The king has spoken!"

So it was that the Ohtatyeronissi were born in earnest to the people of the Noldor and in the times that came thereafter, they did deeds of great renown and were respected and honoured by all.

---

Author's Commentary:

This is a controversial chapter. Not only because it diverges completely from the former narrative and may irritate the reader because of this jolting nature of the main story, but because of the Warrior Women element.
Well, it's said by Tolkien that elven women were the same as men in all aspects of body and mind and that they fought valiantly in the defence of their realms. What he didn't say was that they had offensive duties in war. They were not encouraged to do this since the elves thought the professional art of killing messed up their natural instincts to heal and give birth. So they would only become warriors when their towns and cities were attacked.
This is all well and good but it doesn't set in stone the fact that there couldn't have been some anomalies. The Feanorrim were the harshest of the Noldor and more prone to questionable acts. If there were ever a group of grim warrior elven women, it would make sense to have them come from this branch of Finwe's people.

Another problem that may arise for the reader is the whole Mary Sue issue with the Ravenne character, that might be seen to dilute the story as a whole. I can't say much about that other than I really don't see any other way of writing about her. She's inspired by strong female characters in Tolkien's world like Aredhel, Galadriel and Eowyn, and isn't my personal fantasy to insert a dream character into the canon. As a love interest for Celegorm, I've tried to make up the kind of woman that I think would have suited my interpretation of his character.

I know I'm writing of the fall of Doriath but the story has many important characters of whom I want to shed a bit of light on their relationships with other players in the piece. After all, the story doesn't just contain Dior, Nimloth and the sons of Feanor. The major players have friends, comrades, servants and even partners. I know there's no mention of Celegorm ever having a wife or lover, yet there wasn't any mention of Aegnor having a woman he loved either, yet to our great surprise we find out about Andreth, who's a mortal for that matter. The next two chapters shall make sense of their relationship in the original timeline, so please bear with me.

Finally, I must apologise for the length of this chapter. Yet I really wanted to create what I would see as a believable sense of how this bold woman roused her fellow sisters to fight in a desperate battle that would birth the Ohtatyeronissi. I didn't want a half-hearted approach that would garner more questions than answers. Again, I reiterate that the next two chapters shall make sense of my divergence from the main framework of the story.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Thanx!!!