- >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> -

Chapter Nineteen – A Lady Adamant

Celeborn was waiting for her when Galadriel came through the dais door into the parlor.

Her bodyguard, Gwîlagor, had gone through first without drawing the curtains, and afterwards held back the heavy drapes with his arm for her to come in, bowing slightly as she passed.  He had done this, not because he anticipated danger inside the room or that it was protocol, but because he simply liked lending his fine form to the Lady’s entrances.  She did not mind.  The various reactions the handsome guard garnered whenever he became noticeable, especially by ellith, provided her with endless entertainment.  Whereas, Ithinduil – who might possess more skills and for some reason was not lurking behind Celeborn – lacked any sense of flair.  Acceptable in a garrison officer perhaps, but not in a palace guardsman.  Celeborn thought he could remedy this deficiency, and he was certainly trying.  Better him than her was how she felt about it, though.  Until Gwîlagor showed any incapacity in protecting her, she would keep him on her roster of personal guards and Ithinduil off.

When inside the room, the door closing behind her, she paused to allow Gwîlagor to drop the dark curtain behind her, both of them knowing the contrasting background would very nicely setoff the fashion-setting ensemble she wore.

Her gorgeously gowned figure was enveloped in a lightly clinging aura that outlined her entire form.  The cloudy mantle drifted around her with every movement, a translucent mist of colour.  That it is was Celeborn’s favorite colour was entirely intentional.  The guests had been awed by the ethereal effect, especially when she walked.  This amazing attire was something conjured up by her genius of a dressmaker using a new fabric, a supremely fine netting, which the three rulers of Eregion could reasonably expect to become yet another lucrative trade product from the innovative looms of the Nathdain.  They had no intention of Ost-in-Edhil becoming deserted when the flood of mithril dried up.

Exercising every nuance of feminine grace at her disposal, she glided to her lord husband; confident of her exquisite appearance.

However, even though this was the first time he had seen her in the completed dress, there were no forthcoming compliments – not even a sarcastic one.  She had expected his feathers to be ruffled a little after sending Mirathel to him instead of coming herself.  But, he was not showing any emotion whatsoever.  His cool indifference gave her pause.  She had assumed this unannounced guest was just a delaying tactic, his way of complaining about having to dance before an audience tonight.

She automatically placed her hand in his extended hand, not taking her eyes off of his dispassionate face.

His thoughts did not instantly open to hers as they normally would, and she became worried.  His mind was apparently occupied with something more serious than the on-going festivities.  Had she misjudged the need for her presence?  Elrovail had not indicated any urgency.  He had not sent Mirathel back to her.

Who is so important, my lord, that you had to escort him here and solicit my greeting?

Hrassa… He had not mentioned his bowman in a very long time.  That would explain his restrained reception.  Did this guest bring word of their lost friend?  She grew excited at the prospect.  Would they finally find out what had happened to him and how he had died?  With a sliding of his eyes, Celeborn indicated for her to look past him to across the room. ... is alive.

Her breath caught the surprise so great.  There he stood!  Alive and whole and well!  Gladness filled her heart, and she burst into an enormous smile that shone with delight at the sight of him.

Hrassa!

He placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head to her.  As ever, her servant...

Then, it struck her what it meant if he were again alive, and her happy smile fled in alarm.  She sought her beloved’s shielding strength, tightening her light clasp on his hand.  And shockingly, received nothing!  In that unguarded moment, a dread long caged abruptly leapt forth and fell heavily upon her.  Hrassa was back to aid them in their need, but all she was feeling was abject fear for her child’s life!  Her body stiffened with foreboding.  She wanted to cry out!

The room went pitch-black.  Suspended in the deathly darkness, glaring at her, was a pair of red reptilian eyes – eager for a kill.

Celebrían!

As suddenly as it had come, the vision left.  She drew a shaky breath.  As she exhaled, she strove to shed the dismay cast up by the vision’s wake.  And still nothing from her husband!  She looked to him, bewildered at his abnormal lack of empathy.  His jade eyes were fixed upon her, coldly reading her for signs of a prescient moment.

You meant for that to happen!  Anger replaced apprehension, and she pulled her hand out from his.

What did you see?  What about Celebrían?

In your own vernacular, my lord – Bado na Angband!

She blustered away from him; a swirling storm-cloud of a kind never to be witnessed in nature.  Undaunted, needing only one long stride to catch up, he fell into step right beside her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gwîlagor moving along with them.  When she stopped in the center of the room, the guard positioned himself where he could be seen to protect his queen from this stranger whose presence had clearly spoiled her high spirits.  She schooled her face to appear calm and eased her tense posture.  If she did not visibly regain her confidence, the former marchwarden just might offer the cogndîr a threat he would not ignore.  She liked Gwîlagor too much to have that happen to him.

Mirathel turned to Laerlínath and, with a look, sent the young lady over to her husband.  Aurthôn, Galadriel noticed with envy, received his wife with evident affection and more care for her state of mind than her own husband was showing her.  She looked to Mirathel, expecting some sympathy for having to suffer Celeborn’s callousness.  However, her friend apparently did not think Galadriel needed her support.  The matron’s judgmental mien was directed, not at Celeborn, but at Hrassa.  Who strangely had not yet raised his head.  Perplexed, Galadriel looked from him to Celebrimbor.  Whereupon, the master smith made a deliberate show of solidarity with the green-elf by straightening up and staying next to him.  Which only compounded her confusion.  Disconcerted by everyone acting odd all at one time, she hesitated in giving her greeting.

After waiting a few moments and her not deciding what she would do, Celeborn pressed a hand lightly upon the small of her back.  A sensation of reassurance began to seep into her, his gentle touch the source.

Melluain, you might wish to –

Do not call me that!  Not after what you just did!  Did he think her so distracted that she would forgive him his intentional neglect without an apology first?

Galadriel, you need to –

No, I do not!  Do not tell me what to do!

I just –

Just have a care for my dress, if not for me!

He unexpectedly lifted his hand away, not arguing with her any further.  However, although he did remove his hand, it was only far enough that she could not feel it anymore.  The withdrawal of the comfort momentarily conveyed made her regret her hasty words.  In truth, she was sorely upset and wanted his consolation.  For she knew – they both knew – that the arrival of one who was returned from the dead was an emanate sign.

A sign that felt like it had come too soon.  Much too soon!  They were not yet ready for war!  She was not ready!  She needed to think more clearly.  So, she took a slow, cleansing breath.  It helped, but her spirit remained unsettled.

Hrassa’s head was still bowed, waiting upon her to speak first.  Again odd...   The others were waiting too.  For what?  Perhaps for an answer to the question of how That Laiquendi, as her brother out of irritation would refer to him, might return reborn when Mandos would never have been his choice?  She could sense that the wood-elf, as accomplished as he had been, was no more powerful now than before he had gone away.  How could that be when supposedly re-embodied at the behest of the Valar?  Nor did it make sense in light of things to come... and things that may yet be…. Was this Hrassa really Hrassa?

He was.  This was undeniably the same edhel that had been their champion, companion, and friend through an age of war and crisis, peace and politics.  Their own faithful Huan, as she had jokingly but lovingly dubbed him.  The stalwart bowman of his lord prince and a faithful guardian of Nos Galadhad. 

Nevertheless... not destined for great renown.

He is not the one awaited.

Not very likely, my lady, since he has not died... yet.

Even as Celeborn said this, she knew – absolutely knew – that there would be many ennin yet to prepare for the rise of a new shadow.  The reborn hero would come when he was needed, but not for a long, long time to come.  The revelation was a genuine relief.  So now, appreciating his catalytic inaction rather than aggrieved by it, Galadriel leaned back heavily upon her husband’s steadfast arm – only to become troubled by another realization.

But, that means...

Hrassa was not so stalwart after all.  Her first inclination had been to call him into her embrace.  That was bullied aside by a resentment she thought she had long ago gotten rid of.

Their grief over Hrassa’s disappearance had been deep.  So deep for her beloved that it haunted him for nearly a decade.  During those years, there were moments it would suddenly manifest, bringing melancholy when there should be gladness.  Blaming Hrassa for this was unfair – or so she had thought.  Eventually, the grief faded away and her resentment discarded.  Hrassa may not have been reborn, but at this moment, her resentment was, made more adamant for the grief being revealed as fraudulent.

“Hrassa!  Look at me,” she commanded.  He raised his head, looking quite composed.  His placid expression and paced breathing did not fool her.  She imperiously pointed to the floor in front of her.

He came forward to the indicated spot and knelt before her in Nandorin fashion; one bent leg forward and one pushed back, elegantly balanced over the balls of the feet, the downward knee not touching the ground.  In the past, he would have gazed expectantly up at her.  Now, he kept his head and eyes lowered.  If he were indeed canine and not quendi, his tail would surely be tucked between his legs.

“Look at me,” she repeated with more authority.

He carefully raised his eyes.  He was bracing for her ire.  Which implied he had not a good reason for his absence!

“Where have you been?”  Whether her temper would be held in check or not depended solely upon his answer.

“I wandered off and lost my – ”

“How dare you!”  She slapped him hard.  The force of it threw his head sideways and almost sent his hand to the floor to keep himself steady.  “How dare you use that excuse!”  He had not even tried to evade the blow!  For he knew he deserved it!  Her anger redoubled at this confirmation of guilt, and she raised her hand again.  This time however, Celeborn snatched her wrist in mid-swing.

That is enough.  We will get no plea for forgiveness by beating him.  Her hand stung horribly.  Hrassa’s face must have felt afire.  His stoic effort not to show his pain, in body and heart, was skirting failure.  Let him apologize for our unnecessary bereavement and be done with it.  Please.

What of the punishment he deserves for his desertion?  Shall you not see that done?

As you have heard, he denies it.  His word was good before today.  So without more testimony, I must consider the accusation unsubstantiated.  Time in jail for negligence in sending us word I deem already served.  And, penance for his causing us grief has just been paid.

My lord!  He did not wander off!  He –  

– is now merely another guest.

How much it hurt him to say that about someone who had been as close a brother was plain to her, whether or not it could be seen by anyone else.  Pity for her beloved supplanted wrath for his faithless friend.  She relaxed her arm, and he released his hold.  She slid her hand down his arm, as it lowered to his side, to take hold of his hand.  His cool grasp drew out the heat from her palm and fingers.

Merely another guest...

Yes.

She looked to Celebrimbor, wanting to know his wishes in this matter.  But, his thoughts were as closed as his expression.  They were leaving it up to her.  As they should.  However his old friends wanted to treat Hrassa personally, it was her right as the mistress of their house to decide if he may stay under her roof.  But where would he go if she sent him away?  Back to naught but a memory?  Would they be losing him all over again?

Merely... our guest?

... only if you allow it.

Maybe.

“What have you to say for yourself?” she asked Hrassa.  The imprint of her hand glowed scarlet upon his face.  In less than an hour, it would be a massive bruise.  If not treated soon, he would not look normal for weeks.

“Merciful Lady, I am very sorry.”  As few ever could, he gazed into her angry eyes without flinching.  “I do sincerely apologize for my inconsiderate behaviour.  I never meant to bring misery to anyone.”

That was the truth, straight from his heart.  Her own heart softened towards him.

“Then, why have you done this?”  Did he really believe they cared so little for him?  Why he had not let them know he was alright?  Or at least told them that they should not look for him?  Why come back after all this time?  Where had he gone?  Why had he gone?

He seemed remorseful, appearing as if he truly had not thought anyone would feel a great loss at his going.  Still, he did not answer her.

For he would not answer.  Not tonight anyway.  But, when she got him in private...

The door into the great hall came open with a burst of noise.  She heard someone – the brannon given the privilege of tending the entrance tonight – hurriedly slip through the curtains without shutting the door behind him.  Annoyed at the interruption, she looked over to Mirathel, handing off taking care of the problem to her.  Turning around to deal with frivolous entertainments herself when engaged in an important Household matter, with her lord husband standing beside her, was not going to happen.

“Yes, Naruil?” asked Mirathel in the dulcet tones of a noble-born lady.  “Is there something you need?”   None of the tension in the room could be heard in her gently spoken question.

“I beg pardon for the intrusion, Lady Mirathel.”  He could see that something untoward was happening here as well as in the great hall, and so spoke in a doubly anxious rush.  “But, Lady Elrovail is about to sing.”

Galadriel’s head and shoulders drew up, her temper flaring once more.  Celeborn heaved an exasperated sigh.

Not being governed by a minstrel’s professional concerns, the dark-elf maven was never as careful as she needed to be about how her singing affected her listeners.  Some poor susceptible person would likely end up acting out the lyrics to her song, be it a lay of love or a battle hymn.

My lord, I forbade her!  But, with the example you have set here, why should she think there will be any consequences for disregarding me?

No need to be upset.  ‘Tis naught but an empty threat to let us know she is annoyed.  She wanted to see you deal with Hrassa.  Except, you sent Mirathel ahead, and I had her stay.  An impish smile that he would not let come out into the open tugged at the corner of his mouth.  ‘Tis just that you are so rarely surprised these days that Elrovail and I thought –

Oh, I know your thoughts!  She held off a wry smile.  Elrovail is merely a conspirator, not a mastermind.  She would do as bid.  But, Mirathel would not let you toy with me, so you held her here rather than have your surprise ruined.  Really, my lord...  She smoothed her fingertips tenderly across his.  ... ‘twas good of you to give her time to cope.

Such an accusing tone of voice to use with your loving husband!  At her caress, his hand warmed.  He went from acting affronted to sounding tentative.  You did not enjoy the surprise, Melluain?  You looked like you did.  For a moment there anyway...

I told you, do not call me that!  Oh but, you are incorrigible.  Such childishness!  I am not your plaything.

Of course not!  He flicked a sparkling sidelong glance at her.  You are my playmate.

Her lips parted in a resigned ‘tsk’.  Here I thought I was your lady wife, deserving of your respect and consideration.

Oh, that too.

“Mirathel, would you please tell Elrovail that I wish to see her immediately, and would you please see that the guests continue to enjoy themselves until we are finished here?”

“Of course, my lady.”  She left with the relieved Naruil.

A contributing cause to her husband’s ridiculous turn could be the cups and pitcher she had spied sitting upon the sideboard.  There had been a reunion toast... to friendship.  If Hrassa had not violated their trust, surely they would right now, herself included, be happily toasting to his reunion with their family.  She thought to look over at Laerlínath and Aurthôn, suddenly curious how they were taking everything in, while as yet on the outside.  Had they been driven away by all this?  She hoped not.

The moment their eyes met, the couple froze; chary as squirrels at the sight of a cat.  Whatever did they think she was going do to them?  Nevertheless, she had not meant to frighten either of them to such a degree.  Although, it was perhaps for the best that Laerlínath saw the worst of her temper now instead of later.  Faced with the results of her own lack of consideration in her handling of Laerlínath, Galadriel could not help but feel some sympathy towards Hrassa.  Nonetheless, how could he not anticipate the tremendous hurt he would cause in people he knew so well?  She looked down at him.  Rather predictably, he had turned blank-faced.  At least, as blank as the swelling welt on his face permitted.  Maybe his error had been inadvertent.

All the same, there it was.  An invaluable trust lay broken to pieces like a precious stone knife carelessly shattered.  Something sacred – that had seemed so solid – had been reduced to irreparable shards...  How could her husband, despite his cunning with the law, even think he could fix this and restore Hrassa to respectability?  Why did she want him to try?

The dais door opened again and was quickly closed.  Elrovail grandly swept across the room, her dress whispering and her hair ornaments chiming, to stand on the other side of Galadriel. 

“Oh, bother,” the hiril complained upon seeing Hrassa’s face.  “I missed it.”  However, the sly smile she wore would make anyone think her quite satisfied with what had obviously happened in her absence.

My lady, she wishes to look after him herself.  Please, let her.

Are you sure that is what you want?  Placing Hrassa in Elrovail’s hands would certainly spare her from having to deal with offended household staff.  But, Elrovail obviously agreed with Mirathel...

Yes.

“Lady Elrovail.”

“Yes, My Lady.”

“Would you please see to our guest?  He has had a very long journey to our gates and a disconcerting arrival.  I think he needs some privacy in order to fully recuperate.”

“It would be my pleasure.”  Her answer sounded somehow more predatory then accommodating.  “I shall personally see to his each and every need.”

Hrassa did not move and showed no reaction to her subtle provocation.  Galadriel had not dismissed him.  In a way, it saddened her.  In past times, neither of these two would have bothered with formalities nor hesitated to start a lively skirmish of words.

“Please go with this lady, Cogndîr.  And please, enjoy the hospitality of our home while you are here in Ost-in-Edhil... for as long as you are here.”

“You are generous and most kind, Gracious Lady.”  He stood and stepped back to make a courtly bow to her.  He then turned and neatly bowed to Celeborn.  “At your service, Lord Celeborn.”  He stepped back again and turned to Celebrimbor, bowing to him as well.  “Lord Celebrimbor.”

“Do not forget.  Tea tomorrow afternoon,” the master smith quietly reminded him.  “I will have someone come fetch you.”

“Oh my,” declared Elrovail.  “If you are to make your social debut, we had best improve upon your injury immediately.”  Her smile curled catlike at the corners of her lovely mouth.  “Really, there is no need to feel embarrassed about it.  The rug in this room is treacherous and too easy by far to trip over.  Even for an adept wood-elf such as yourself.”

You invited them for tea tomorrow afternoon?!

No, I did not!  I would not do that after what it took to arrange the time!  Tomorrow afternoon is entirely ours alone, Melluain.  Celebrían has invited him to join her usual party.

Must I tell you again?  You may not call me that!  Not until you apologize for being so calculating at the door.  However has Celebrían found out about him so soon?

Interesting story that… and I do apologize... Melluain...

“Come along, Cogndîr,” Elrovail cheerfully ordered.  “Your belongings will be brought to your room.”  She led him to the private door, and pointedly waited for Ithinduil to open it for her.  The Lord’s personal guard was not speedy about it, even after Gwîlagor had been halted from doing the task.

“After you, Lady Elrovail.”  Hrassa politely waved an arm, insisting for her to precede him.

“Why, thank you, Sir!”  She inclined her head to his as she slide by.  “And between us, Hrassa, it is still Ramar.”  She took a pinch of his sleeve and tugged him in after her.  “Now, now.  You need not worry.  I know how wandering about in the dark wildwoods affects one’s thinking and memory.  Rest assured, I shall keep reminding you how a good friend should behave.”

They left; Elrovail’s barbed chatter trailing off.

My lord, you should have put him in a prison cell.  It would have been far kinder.  She is not the only one who will harass him.

What makes you think I mean to be kind?  However, I shall ask that of you.  Please, allow the others to go, too.  Since we must talk at length.

Most certainly, we will talk.  But, however late we do go into the hall, you will still dance as promised.  And make pleasant conversation with Master Lindir.  He is the guest of honor and it –

Never.  I will dance.  Nothing more.

Then, our friends herein shall wait upon our conversation to end and shall go in with us when we are ready.  Socializing will be good for Qaurë and beneficial to my new lady-in-waiting –

Galadriel, everyone has danced to your tune enough for tonight.  Be charitable – 

Danced to my tune?!  Fie, my lord!  You are who has conducted this entire performance!  And do not tell me you did not twirl the pretty Laerlínath around a few times while waiting for me!

So?  She is a well-trained young lady and conducts herself with grace under stress.  But, her reaction to the very thought of encountering you again so soon after your little test would tell anyone that you left her wound up tighter than a brand-new clock spring.  The poor child needed considerable unwinding.  Such an extreme trial was unkind for you to –

Speaking of clocks, I want that monstrosity taken out of our sitting room.  For that matter, out of our apartment.  Tic Toc! Tic Toc!  It is the most –

I like the rhythmic sound and it has proven useful.  Stop changing the subject.  Let them leave.  We must discuss this turn of fortune and decide if your vision –

Celebrimbor impatiently cleared his throat.  Galadriel and Celeborn both looked at him, appearing merely curious as to why he would wish to disturb the relative tranquility that had descended upon the room.  His raised eyebrows said he knew what the silence was actually about.

“Shall we go,” he gestured to include Laerlínath and Aurthôn, “or shall we stay?”

Celeborn’s answer to Celebrimbor’s question was none.  Galadriel sighed.  She had his answer.  He was not going to accede to any additional favors just to free them.  She might as well be kind and regain some goodwill.

“Choose the portal of your liking,” and she too gestured to include the clerk and his wife for clarity.  “Enjoy the remaining starlit hours,” she said, bestowing upon them one of her most benevolent smiles.  “For they go without permission and dawn arrives unbidden.”  The three looked at each other, a bit befuddled at her flourished answer.

And you call me incorrigible...

“Aurthôn, I think it would be edifying for you to come with me,” said his employer.  “Out the private door.”

The young couple whispered together, trying not to give away that there was a strong difference of opinion between them.  Each saw a different advantage to going through the secret passages or onto the dais.  Galadriel found their arguing, while nervously trying not to appear to be arguing, somewhat endearing.  She turned her set smile upon Celeborn, who offered a fleeting – but kindhearted – smile in return.

Were we ever that young and naïve, my lord?

Young, yes.  But, never as naïve... if we had been, we might well have wed much too young to succeed at staying wed.

If they are to succeed in society, they need to be more circumspect than this in public.  Do you think they might someday get the hang of it?

He drew her hand up to his chest, resting it over his heart.

Possibly.  Maybe, after a few more times of being caught kissing, they will find the proper motivation.  Or they could just stop worrying about appearances all together...

Nostalgic memories brought a warm sensation to her lips, but she held back the accompanying blush without much effort.  There had been a time when that feat was beyond her ability. 

“Lord Celebrimbor,” stated Aurthôn, when consensus was reached, “we would be honored if you would permit us to accompany you.”  Laerlínath acted as if she was in complete agreement, but Galadriel knew she had conceded because she had gotten the favors she had bargained for.

“Good,” the master smith grinned.  He turned to his co-rulers.  “Enjoy the rest of your evening too.”  With a beckoning gesture, he hurried through the still open private door; the young couple hustling after him.  They did remember to stop and bow as they went by the Lord and Lady, although in a rushed and inelegant manner.  The lamp Celebrimbor had used earlier was taken up again, and he immediately began explaining the dimensions and extent of the passages.  After Aurthôn and Laerlínath were inside, Ithinduil closed the narrow door behind them.

That elleth has real ambitions.

Is that not one of the reasons you have recruited her?

So, you do approve of her?  In their earlier discussion over engaging Laerlínath, he had withheld his personal approval upon condition of meeting the brennil in person.

Oh, yes.  However... It could become awkward, if we have to soon leave.  Aurthôn’s lord has finally awakened to his potential and will be keeping him closer now, I think.  It would be wrong to split them up between us so early in their marriage.

With everyone sent off, her husband was turning sullen – something Galadrile knew was bound to happen whenever he felt there was little for him to do except wait upon others to act.  Even so, for whatever reason his keenness might flag, she never minded cajoling him into a better mood, since it would also make his company more pleasant.

How did you know I was bluffing about Lindir?  Actually, she would never make him be friends with someone, whom for some strange reason, he disliked so much.

H’mm, I probably should just smile knowingly and let you think me wise.  But, no...  I was being stubborn.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.  An appreciative smile flashed across his face, before he released her.

Your honesty is one of your most attractive qualities, melindo.  He left her side and started walking towards the entrance of the alcove – just assuming she would be coming along.  But, she did not go with him.  Instead, she stood where she was and watched him move away.  Along with your very attractive –

“You can compliment the rest of my virtues tomorrow afternoon.  Come into the alcove.”  He spoke over his shoulder, not stopping nor looking back.

“Lead on, my lord, as that makes you happy.  We shall see if I follow.”

“You always have.  But, there is a first time for everything, I suppose.  Hrassa’s thoughtless sojourn being a case in point... “

TBC

 - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> - >> -

Author’s Notes:

All elvish is in Sindarin unless otherwise indicated and underlined means I put it together myself – corrections and comments are welcome!

Nathdain – Gwaith-i-Nathdain, the Weavers’ Guild, the People of the Weavers

cogndîr – bowman Nandorin

melluain – most dear, my dearest  mel (love) –wain (-est, most) used as a noun, not an adjective, the ending ‘n’ kinda sounds possessive

melindo – lover (m) Quenya  Galadriel’s personal endearment for her husband and a personal concession from Celeborn, who is probably fine with it as long as no one else ever hears her say it

ellon/elleth – elf male/female

ellyn/ellith – elves male/female

brannon/brennil – nobleman/noblewoman

hir/hiril – lord or sir/lady or dame

ennin – year/years – a Valarian year consisting of 144 sun years

Bado na Angband! – Go to Angband! or as it was sometimes called: Hells of Iron. imho, Mandos is not all that bad a place in comparison and more like Limbo or Purgatory.