Chapter Text
Caranthir had never shown a great interest in courtship. She had had offers both in the form of formal proposals of marriage and suggestive glares that made her want to leave the room and throw up, the latter she had no qualms dismissing out of hand in a way that provided much entertainment to Tirion’s busybodies and the former of which were declined slightly more diplomatically for a myriad of reasons. Before her coming of age Maedhros had had a long conversation with her about perceiving the intentions of her suitors and offered a range of tactics to determine whether they wanted to marry her or simply wanted to marry the Crown Prince’s daughter and in applying these tactics she found she could eliminate a great deal more than Maedhros himself would have been able to. Not that she was particularly offended by that it was probably for the best as she knew that if she’d received sincere offers she’d have handled them supremely terribly and made a great deal more enemies than she already had. So no, she wasn’t upset that no one actually wanted to marry her, but the attempts at deceit she found incredibly insulting and only further reinforced her belief that she preferred the company to her family to that of a man that would never see her as something other than a pretty status symbol.
When she first saw the leader of the Haladin her hair was a wild mane splayed at all angles around her head and she was smeared with blood and muck all over her tunic and bronzed skin. She was the most perfect sight Caranthir had ever seen. Caranthir had been on return from a visit to the Blue Mountains, accompanied by a retinue of soldiers when she had seen smoke crawling over the hills above a camp swarmed with orcs and rode in to meet them, her soldiers following after her. She had worried they would not be able to overthrow the orcs once she’d seen the unexpectedly large size of the horde when she noticed that the Edain the settlement must have belonged to were not as defeated as she’d assumed, one of them in particular was tearing through orcs on the other side of the battle like a flame, all who approached her falling on her blade. The Haladin, filled with renewed hope at the sight of reinforcements fought on, as did the elves and by the time the sun had crept over the hills the last orc lay still on the ground. Caranthir asked the first man she saw if they would allow her to speak to their valiant leader. He ran off to obey immediately, terrified at being addressed by what must surely be an Elven queen.
Haleth’s POV
Haleth had imagined herself dreaming when she’d seen the first aid her people had ever received charging down that hill with their immaculate armour glinting and their horns sounding bright atop their massive steeds. It felt like a miracle, a blessing from the heavens that had seemed so long to have abandoned them. They’d had no hesitation, no fear, just the pure strength and coordination that came from millenia of practice as long as the sun and moon had shone on Middle Earth. As a result of the unexpected relief they survived, the presence of merely thirty or so new warriors granting them their first victory in months. When she was told that their leader wished to meet her she agreed to go with them wanting to see what exactly had happened. She was expecting some haughty, distant elf lord who believed they should all be vassals to his magnificence. That was not what she got.
The most beautiful woman she had ever seen dismounted off her massive horse with ease, all her movements like a dance. She was sparsely armoured and clothed in a black gown, clearly not prepared for a battle though it was hard to believe with how many she must have killed. Her hair was bound in intricate, neat braids above her head but over the battle a few singular locks of wavy raven hair had escaped to frame her face that was pale and smooth with a rosy flush on her cheeks that made her seem more real somehow. She squared her shoulders and angled her head slightly upwards to look her in the eyes, refusing to fall to the unearthly bewitchments of the Eldar. She and her people would not be deferent to the first elf that came their way and they would not be made lesser.
Caranthir POV
Caranthir was surprised to see a young woman come towards her walking with the confidence she still didn’t have after all these years. She was a clearly a warrior and a fierce one at that, fighting with a level of passion and courage she had seen rarely before, and was clearly in charge from the way she barked out orders and the army parted to let her through. Her hair was like a wild halo around her head, the pale brown curls almost gold in the waning sunlight. She had a sword on her hip and a shield over her broad shoulders clothed in brown leather and wool yet even with her only indication of high status being a fur over her shoulders she exuded regality. But the most impressive thing was when their eyes met. Her eyes were stormy grey and held strength and defiance despite the immense losses she had surely just suffered, and been suffering for who knows how long previously. She found she couldn’t look away.
Haleth POV
‘You wished to speak with me,’ she did her best to make clear through her tone that this lady’s wishes were not the reason they were having this conversation and they would not be if she did not equally will it. ‘You are the leader of these people, yes?’ Most in her place would have asked where Haleth’s husband was or if she had a father or brother they could be directed to and if they had asked the latter Haleth most certainly would have killed them where they stood at this moment in time. Yet this woman did not seem to question at all that she was the one in charge merely assessing her with those harsh dark blue eyes as she would any other potential threat. She tried not to let that make her feel a little a warm. She did not need validation from this elf. ‘I am Haleth Chieftain of the Haladin’. Haleth saw one side of her mouth quirk upwards almost imperceptible in a contemplative manner. ‘I am Caranthir’.