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Continuation: Fifteen Years in Lothlorien	By : Ertia Category: -Multi-Age > Het - Male/Female Views: 5034 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Not my garden, I just play in it. Ah, but isn't it full of such lovely
flowers to play with?

Fifteen Years

Chapter 26: Moonlighting
Legolas dropped to the ground as the new arrivals came silently through the trees. Seldayan came to his side and they moved to stand behind Celeborn as Santgalas and the commander of the Northern Border approached.
Warden Santgalas greeted Celeborn seriously, his expression studied calm, but when Celeborn took his arm and drew him aside, his face turned grim.
"He'll be telling him about Oro and R�mil." Seldayan whispered. "Haldir's anger was nothing compared to what Adar is capable of."
Legolas turned in surprise, seeing Seldayan clearly for the first time; the light green eyes, the tall, slender frame, the pale hair and the willing smile. How could he have not seen the kinship immediately? His voice softened in sympathy, "Then Orophin is your cousin?"
"Aye." Those eyes the shade of new leaves darkened, "And R�mil."
Seldayan cast a glance downward and then looked back at Legolas, a deep regret burning in his stare, "I am no fighter, Sarnlass. I must put my faith in you and 'Adar to bring him home. I hope you understand that it is no easy task for me, nor for Haldir."
"We'll find him, Seldayan, I promise." Sarnlass whispered. A hush had fallen, and Celeborn and Santgalas were facing each other, gripping each others forearms as they spoke. Then they turned to the Courtesans.
"Sarnlass, join me. We must plan our mission." Santgalas' voice was a dark stain of anger lightened only by determination.
In the guard flet, Legolas used leaves and twigs to layout the encampment as best he remembered it. The steam-bed would hide them until they were upon the camp, then they would have to rely on their own stealth.
As the sun set, Ithil rose in the east, peeking over the trees, chasing the sun from the sky. Legolas noted it with a sigh. "Ithil. We'll not hide easily in her glow."
Santgalas did not reply to this, but turned to Seldayan. "Strip down, Sel."
"'Adar?" Seldayan hesitated for a moment, but then his eyes widened as he comprehended the plan. He chuckled and shook his head, "You first!"
Santgalas laughed and stripped off his dark green tunic, holding it out to Seldayan, who exchanged it for his own plain cream linen.
"Of course!" Legolas gave a sigh of relief as Santgalas donned the Courtesan garb. Yellow linens against the yellow moonlight on the night-pale grasses of the meadow would help hide their shapes from human eyes! "But it will not be of much aid in the campfire light."
"Put your hair down, Sarnlass." Was Santgalas' only reply. "It will help hide your pale face. I'm surprised you would braid it. Or is that the fashion for Courtesans in the Greenwood these days?"
Legolas gasped. He'd utterly forgotten the tight braid that hung down his back! He hastened to loosen it. "Lord Celeborn will flay me for that, won't he?"

Santgalas shrugged. "We have more pressing concerns than hairstyling, Courtesan. Are you ready?"
Legolas checked his knives, tightened his harness, and nodded. In spite of his embarrassment over being caught with his hair braided, he felt certainty flood through him. He was reminded of a dozen other missions and the surety of their outcome. They would prevail in this one. "I am ready."
Seldayan gripped his father's arm warmly. "Return safe. My bow will cover you from the forests edge as long as you are within' it's reach."
"Second-best archer in all of Lothlorien." Santgalas' voice was full of pride and care, then his expression hardened as he remembered who held the title of best. "We'll return soon."
In silence they left the flet and made their way to the forest's edge, Santgalas leading the way to the stream gulch.
The moonlight illuminated the meadow in stark relief as the sky darkened. The Men were cooking around their fires, yelling to each other; a few raucous songs were being sung here and there.
"They make enough noise that they shan't hear beyond their own voices." Santgalas whispered, and Legolas nodded in agreement. The ears of Men were not as sharp as those of Elves. They slipped closer to the encampment, moving alongside the stream in it's deep bed, hidden from view.
As they came nearer, something changed within the camp. There were calls, strident commands, and the shuffling of disorganization. Legolas raised up and peered through the stems of young grasses. Two of the better dressed Men were moving amongst the others, apparently giving orders.
As he watched, all but two of the fires were extinguished and the men were gathering. "Something is happening," Legolas reported as he dropped back down, "What it is, I cannot say for certain."
"If they are distracted, there is no better time." Santgalas raised himself cautiously to the edge, and pointed. "I will check the wains. You slip around the back of the encampment to the tents. If he is not there, then we'll meet at the smaller tent to the right and search one by one. Magpie if we find him, meadowlark if we are in need of aid."
Santgalas hesitated, his eyes glittering in the moonlight. "And if that fails, then we will take one of them and ensure that he tell us where R�mil is."
The determined fury behind Santgalas' tone stunned Legolas. He could only nod in agreement, and then Santgalas was up and moving swiftly towards the wains.
Legolas turned the other way. Silent, stealthy, he crept swiftly across the meadow, keeping eye and ear out for guards he may have missed. His keen hearing could make out the speech of the men, but he could not recognize more than a few words. He knew little Westron, and this seemed mixed with some southern dialect that he could not discern. It frustrated him and he promised himself that next when he had time he would make use of Caras Galadhon's vast library to extend his linguistic knowledge.
At last, he was hidden by the bulk of the larger tent, and dropped to his belly, inching close to pull out one of the stakes that held the tarp to the ground and wriggling through the offered opening.
The tent was large, and seemed to have been designated a meeting place, with a low table, many cushions, and scattered blankets. It was fairly clean, convincing Legolas that it was of the traveling group with the wains and not of the hillmen. But R�mil was not here. Legolas slipped back out of the tent and silently replaced the peg.
If he had been to the fore of the tent, he may have looked out and seen what was happening, and thus he would not have been so surprised when he crawled to the corner of the tent, preparing to make the short run to the smaller tent where he would meet Santgalas. What he saw caused him to freeze. There was a brief flare, and then it seemed as though the entire leading edge of Lothlorien Wood was in flame!
Horror raced through him. They had laid oil casks, as they had with the oak trees! How had they done so without the knowledge of the Wardens? Anger flushed through him, even as the flames died slightly and he realized that the flames had not yet burned the trees. In the flare of orange light, the men cheered, and then there was a rush of movement as they dashed forward towards the woods, separating to take advantage of the walls of fire they had inspired.
Seeing them thus distracted, Legolas dashed to the next tent and yanked up a stake, rolling underneath the tarp. It was dark here, the closure tied tightly shut. His eyes adjusted in a blink and what he saw found him forcing the soft cry of the magpie between his lips.
His dagger was quick to his hand as he cut the ropes that held R�mil's hands bound to the solid support post. "R�mil? R�mil, do you hear me?"
"I hear." The voice was soft but clear, and Legolas quickly came around to peer into his face. He had beaten and shaved, just as Orophin, but Legolas could see it was not as badly. His eyes were swollen shut, and his hands trembled as he pulled them before him and rubbed them carelessly to restore their circulation, but his features were intact and his body, though naked and bruised, was not swollen or distorted. "They took Oro. Took him...Sarnlass?"
"Aye, it's Sarnlass. Orophin is safe, R�mil. He is safe, and soon you will be as well." Legolas began cutting away the ropes that held his legs and feet bound together. "We're getting you out of here. Can you walk?"
"Ai. I can." R�mil whispered.
They both started as there was a movement to one side of the tent, but relaxed when Santgalas' pale countenance appeared.
Without a word, he withdrew a small flask and held it to R�mil's lips, steadying his hands as he drank.
"They are burning the forest. They've begun their attack." Santgalas warned, "We will have to go swiftly. R�mil, can you walk?"
"Yes, uncle. I can walk!" Bolstered by the miruvor, he punctuated the words by pushing himself to his feet. He made two hesitant steps before stumbling into Legolas' arms. He shook his head in sad frustration, "Perhaps not. I barely can see...."
The admission of his helplessness tore at Legolas, for he could see the effort that it cost the proud warrior to make it. "No matter, R�mil. Let us carry you."
Santgalas pulled R�mil over his back, wrapping his arms around his chest. "Sarnlass, you will have to fight for both of us. I fear we must pass their army to return to the wood. Are you ready?"
Legolas nodded grimly, and unsheathed his knives. With a single slice, he opened the back of the tent and led the way as Santgalas bore R�mil. As they looked forward, they could see the flames licking higher. Men were driving into the woods through the openings in the fires. The flying arrows of the archers of Lorien slew those who came into their range.
"We make for the archers." Legolas pointed. "Once we are within their range, they will protect us."
Santgalas nodded and R�mil murmured his agreement with the plan. Legolas scanned the battle, joined now on the ground as Elves battled both the flames and the onslaught of men. He glanced at Santgalas and saw the Warden's face darken with emotion as he saw the wood despoiled. Legolas readied his blades and flashed the former Courtesan a determined smile, "Let's go home."
Then he led the way into the fray.

Ta da!

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Thank YOU Everybody!!!!
Corvis: Did you get my email? Everything posted at AFF in this story is now also at my Ripway site. Not pretty and not clean, but there.
MarzBar: Yes, Legolas and Seldayan are pretty amusing, and they only get better. Caras Galadhon wanted the best Courtesans; now it has them. Can the city survive?

Tuxedo Elf: Tux, I do hope you know I would never-ever-ever-in-a-thousand-ages let a filthy man rape our beautiful Elves! That would be unthinkable! Beat and torture, perhaps, but never sexually assault. Now, Legs and San have R�mil, and he's very nearly safe. .. nearly.
And thank you for the heads up on the missing P tag! I'm correcting that with this weeks update. That's what I get for not having Manitou at least LOOK at it.

And Oro says thank you for the hat... Or well, he kind of signed it as his jaw is still healing. :)

Lioncourt: Yay! You're here! Yes, Legolas's hair was still braided! Now the question is did Celeborn notice? Did he care? Was he too busy defending his lands to see? Or is Santgalas gonna tattle? SOooooooo many questions! :)
Manitou: You are the horse to my Rohirrim. And I'll let you take that however you like.
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Continuation: Fifteen Years in Lothlorien