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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!
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Slaves don't get paid, do they?
Fifteen Years

Chapter 27: The Heat of Battle
Legolas moved on instinct. Arrows were raining from the tree-line as the forest edge erupted in lines of flame. Santgalas carried R�mil upon his back, hunching to protect them both as the wild hillmen screamed in blood-thirsty rage around them.
Legolas felt the weight of his blades as though they were extended from his body, and he moved in a circle around Santgalas, herding him ever closer to the protective forest. A flash of steel to his right, and Legolas ducked, bringing his right blade around in a sweeping arch. Hot blood splattered across his arm and face and he heard the man scream as he fell back.
Then there was a movement from Santgalas' other side, and Legolas had to leap around the struggling kinsmen to defend them. A glimpse of dark, hirsute face close by in the darkness; he dove, rolling under the attacking blade to come to his feet and whirl on his attacker, cutting his legs from beneath him.
Two more approached, and Legolas heard Santgalas shout. He turned back to see a dark figure raising an ax before his charges and he screamed a warning to Santgalas as he kicked one sword-wielding man out of his way. Just as he raised his knife to throw it into the offenders chest, the figure fell forward, and Legolas could see the feathered tip of an arrow protruding from between his shoulders.
They were within reach of the Lothlorien archers! Legolas thought he had never been so relieved to see an arrow in his life. The respite from worry was shortlived as another line of flames erupted from the undergrowth before them. Santgalas and R�mil would have to make it further down the treeline before they could reach safety!
"This way!" Legolas leaped in front of Santgalas, waving him away from the fires. His face grim with determination, Santgalas nodded before his eyes widened in surprise.
Indeed, that was all the warning Legolas had before he felt the rush of air against his back. Elven reflexes reacted before his instincts even could bespeak the danger. Spinning, he ducked his head as he drove both knives forward with a controled lunge of his body. A gurgle of blood and air told him he'd reached his target, but the burning pain that sliced through his ribs told him he had not escaped the attack unscathed.
Wheeling away from the falling corpse, he gestured to Santgalas to keep moving, and he dashed to the front once more to clear the way. Another attack, another arrow. A whistle of steel thrown away with a well-aimed block of his blades. Attacks from both sides, and Legolas dived for the nearer, hoping that an arrow would find the other before the enemy reached Santgalas.
A sharp shout rang out and Legolas whirled with his bloodied blades raised, fearing the worst.
"DARO!" A familiar voice commanded, and a fine blade of solid steel rang against his knives, holding his attack.
"MarchWarden!" Legolas gasped out his surprise and relief as Haldir's broad, armored form appeared before him, "Forgive me!"
Haldir nodded, and jerked his head towards the gap in the flames as he took R�mil from Santgalas. He ordered simply, "Run."
They ran side by side, Haldir carrying R�mil against his back as Santgalas and Legolas drew weapon and cleared the way, defending from the sides. The gap came closer and then they were under the trees, embraced in a flurry of action as healers came to take R�mil, and Wardens rushed this way and that defending the wood and dousing flames.
Legolas looked to his left and right and then moved back towards the front edge of the fighting. A grip upon his arm stopped him.
"War is no place for a Courtesan." Haldir's voice was cool, but his eyes burned with more than the burning of the wood.
Legolas shook his head, forgetting all Celeborn's admonishments in the rush of battle that encircled him, "This war is as much mine as yours, March Warden. I desire to fight."
"You are injured." Haldir reminded him firmly, glancing to Legolas' torn tunic, the stain of blood that spread from it.
Now Legolas felt anger flush through him once more, but held his tongue and bowed his head, "Please, March Warden, 'tis no more than a scratch. Allow me to fight."
Slowly, he raised his head again, and somehow met Haldir's eye. He hoped desperately that his expression was as cool and in command as Haldir's, but he feared the blazing anger that raged within him was all to clearly written on his face.
The March Warden's eyes narrowed and he scrutinized Legolas for a long moment, "Go on then. But take this," And he handed Legolas a heavy padded jerkin, "I'll not be responsible for you returning too scarred and battered to maintain your courtesanship."
Legolas squirmed into it, buckling it quickly. He turned to thank Haldir, but the Warden was already striding away, sword in hand as he directed the defenses. Quickly, he made his way back to the gap and engaged the first enemy that approached. At some point, he found himself fighting back to back with another Elf who wore the colours of the Northern Border Guard, and they remained together until the battle quieted.
Unfortunately, the hill men were no match for the Elves they engaged. Although a few won the woods, some were slain and many more fled back to the mountains as the battle rage left them.
It was not yet past the turning of night to dawn when Haldir's silver horn rang out in three short blasts, and the Elves retreated back into the shadow of the wood. The fires were dying down, but the acrid scent of burned greenery filled the air. The attack upon the wood had been a failure, and as Legolas drew nigh to the guard flet from where his evening had begun, he saw the tied figures kneeling at the base of the tree under heavy guard.
Four of the better dressed men, the traveling traders from the wains, had been captured and now they glared at their captors, snarling as though feral and spitting if any came too near. Legolas looked on curiously, as Lord Celeborn strode through the trees. He had aided both with the fighting and the fires, and soot and blood marked his battle dress. Still, it in no way impaired his striking beauty as he came to stand before the men. As he stood before them, his hair loose and glimmering in the golden light from the fires, his aura shining against the dark of the wood, he was an imposing figure.

Now, for the first time, the men seemed to cower.

"You will be returned to our city to stand judgement." Celeborn told them, his voice impassive.
"We do not hold to the judgement of fey creatures!" One man, Legolas recognized him as the leader from earlier in the evening, spoke up defiantly, but he looked down again as Celeborn leaned close to him.
"Fey creatures attack, kill and destroy at random." Celeborn answered, his voice cool and reasonable, "We have done none of those things. Do you then not find yourself better judged by such civilized creatures, than fey and dastardly ones such as yourself?"
To this the man had no answer, but flinched back again. Celeborn turned and spoke quietly to Haldir and the other Commanders before turning to Legolas. At some point, Seldayan had come to stand beside him, although Legolas could not have said when that was.
"Come along, Courtesans." Celeborns voice was quiet, almost weary, and Legolas and Seldayan followed him back through the woods. There was a place where the wood opened into a small glade, and the stream deepened into a pool. A few others were there, but finished quickly and left as Celeborn turned back to them.
Seldayan went immediately to loosen the Lord's sword belt, and Legolas came forward himself to unbuckle his battle jerkin and ease it from his shoulders. Celeborn chuckled softly, and both Courtesans paused, wondering whatever could possibly be amusing?
"Forgive me, Courtesans." Celeborn said ruefully, "I do not mean levity at such a time. But you really should look at yourselves."
With that they stood back from him, exchanging a puzzled glance.
"I see I shall need to send you both back to Illiene for proper training in dress for a Courtesan!" Now Celeborn tried to give them a stern stare, but his sly smile erased their dismay at his words.
Seldayan, dressed in his father's dark green tunic and leggings, the high neck laced up over his collar, could have passed for any other South Border Warden. Legolas, in the battle jerkin that Haldir had given him, was soaked in the blood of men, looking far more a seasoned warrior than a prince of the bedroom.
Seldayan chuckled softly. "With your permission, My Lord, I would be pleased to remove the offending garments."
"And I as well." Legolas managed to smile, but his weariness was beginning to take it's toll.
"Please do. And when you have done, join me in the pool!" And with that, Celeborn waded into the water.
As they undressed, Legolas was dismayed to discover that his torn tunic had stuck to his open wound. The pain, while inconsequential in the heat of battle, now was catching up to him and adding to his sense of exhaustion. Slowly, he peeled away the tunic and his leather boots, and waded into the water.
Seldayan was already at Celeborn's side, the Lord tilting his head back into the water as the Courtesan loosened his braids and soothed his fingers through the fine silver hair. Legolas came to stand before Lord Celeborn and scoop cool handfuls of water across his chest.
Together, they bathed Lord Celeborn, rinsing away the soil from their own bodies in the process. The streambed was pebbled, and the pool was waist deep. Legolas felt the water tugging around him, easing the tired ache in his body.
When Celeborn pulled him closer, he came into the strong arms, daring to lean forward to place a kiss upon the smooth chest, hoping that all troubles between them had been set aside for the time being. Celeborn sighed and returned the kiss with a soft touch of his lips to Legolas' forehead, then shifted to pull Seldayan close as well.
"'Tis been too long, Sel. I should have called you home earlier." He whispered to the tall pale Elf, who laughed warmly, slipping his arm around Celeborn's waist and bowing his head to rest against his shoulder.
"And then what would Captain Verielen have gotten for his begetting day, My Lord? After all, you did promise." Seldayan's voice was rich with humor, and Celeborn responded by capturing his lips in a deep and penetrating kiss.
Legolas looked on, bemused, but felt unable to respond, too tired to do more than obey any request made of him. Lost in his musings, he was surprised when Celeborn shifted his attention, taking a demanding kiss from him. The surprise quickly faded under the skill of the mouth that covered his own, and he felt Seldayan's broad hand come gently to the small of his back to steady him as Celeborn pressed closer. Their tongues danced together, and Legolas groaned with the force of it, the flavor and scent of the Lord surrounding him utterly.
Then, suddenly, Celeborn was drawing back. He grabbed Legolas' shoulder and held him back from him, holding up one hand tinged red in the pale moonlight. He demanded, "Why did you not tell me you were injured?"

Startled, Legolas looked into the piercing grey gaze of Lord Celeborn, only just realizing that his wound was bleeding afresh. "Truthfully, My Lord, I had quite forgotten."

Legolas ran his hand down his side, and could see now that the cut, though long, was shallow. It was painful but not serious. He attempted to laugh it away, "Your kisses may heal many injuries, My Lord."
Celeborn tilted his head, his gaze inscrutable, "You seem to be developing a penchant for forgetting things, Sarnlass." He held Legolas' eye for a moment so there would be no mistaking his meaning, and then he shook his head, his voice softening. "It is of no matter. Up with you and straight to the Healers."
"My Lord, I..."
"Sarnlass, do not make me carry you to them." Celeborn spoke as he would to a recalcitrant elfling, his tone and tender smile softening his words, as his thumb gently rubbed Legolas' shoulder.
Legolas was too tired to protest further. "Aye, My Lord. I'll go at once."

The healers bower had been set up a little way into the wood, and the moonlit path was all the direction he needed to find it. The first healer he met caught his hand and dragged him into the torchlight to examine the wound. She worked quietly and steadily, her hands efficient as she cleaned his wound and bandaged it.
"Healer..." Legolas hesitated and she supplied her name on cue, "Healer Lessena, have you heard how the brothers, R�mil and Orophin fair?"
"They are both sleeping, Courtesan. In the morn, we will return with them to the city."
"And their wounds? Will Orophin..." Legolas couldn't bring himself to ask but she nodded slowly, her lips pursed.
"I think he will live, Courtesan," Then she met his eye with the frank way of a healer who must impart difficult truths, "But I am not certain if he will recover. Time will tell, but his fea suffers. He is in darkness. Perhaps, he will improve in time. If he does not, it will be a kindness to send word to Lord Cirdan and see if he is acceptable to sail."
"I understand." Legolas said quietly, although his heart ached for the kindly Warden. He suddenly felt very weary and the torchlight seemed to flicker around him.
Healer Lessena's hand brushed his brow and a damp cloth ran over his face and arms until she was satisfied that he bore no other injuries.
"Now, drink this, and you rest until dawn. Let yourself be healed, Courtesan." Her voice was soothing and the cup she held to his lips was sweet. Legolas found himself relaxing into the soft greensward, a blanket of the softest weave draping his body. Somehow, he found solace in revery.
ta da!

--------------------------
Phew-

Okay. That's it. The worst is over. You have no idea how relieved I am to tell you that!
Tuxedo; Thank you for another wonderful review! R�mil appreciates the hat, but suggests perhaps you could find one with a pom pom on top? I dunno, I think maybe his brain is still a bit addled. Seldayan took a Courtesan name, but I think in a city like Caras Galadhon it would not be possible to entirely separate the life of the Elf from the Courtesan. His friends and family would still know him. (And don't forget that Santgalas was once a Courtesan, himself.)

Soda; Glad to know you're still here. Hmmm... Hot Haldir/Legolas action? Hmmm... certainly something to consider... creamy, bare Haldir against warm soft Legolas skin... oh. Um. Sorry. Got distracted. What was I talking about? Oh yes, darker style, more action. I'm thrilled that you like it! It's a bit of a diversion for me, and I never meant for it to get this dark.

Setarezan; Yes. Evil humans. I initially signed up some grouchy Dwarves, but they reneged on their contract at the last minute. Fortunately, these gypsy traders wandered by and they'll do anything for a byline.

MarzBar! Of course I got poor R�mil out! And I promise he'll get better! :) I intended the braid to be a demonstration of some key points of the story; a symbol if you will, but apparently, some people are just REALLY stuck on it. lol I should just re-edit and cut the darn thing out. (out, not off!) :D

Lioncourt; Yes... Ah...HEY! Are you peeking at my notes? *hides notes under the bed* Yes, there is a promise to Glorfindel. Should be fun he comes... I mean to 'lorien! Y'all got smutty minds!

Nightbreeze; Hi! Didn't know you were reading! Look, the hair thing. Just forget it. People aren't getting it. Symbolism that went astray, tied with a hint of something deeper in the layer of the story that apparently people aren't getting either. Just forge t it, 'kay? *shrug*

Nessa; Hallo, dear! Yes, most slash writers are females with too much time on their hands. I happen to be a female with not enough time on her hands, hence my sporadic posting. (hee hee, I LOVED that pillow fight. Talk about fluff!) I must confess to you that Mirie is my Mary Sue... Gosh, I love that naughty Courtesan!
Manitou; Thank you for everything, but especially the palak paneer.

I have it on very good authority that there is a certain tome being prepared for release in digital format for the first time since the Second Age that should shed a great deal of light on the Traditions of the Courtesans. I hesitate to say too much at this juncture, but there should be more information coming soon.
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Continuation: Fifteen Years in Lothlorien