Chapter 13:

They had been staying with the Woads for the past couple of months. They were buying their time. They were waiting until they could move safely through the untamed lands where they could go unnoticed by the men the Woads called the Romans—more like demons clothed in red. Haldir was left feeling uneasy and restless—he had lost his brother in a fight, and Mithrandir had disappeared with the Woad's leader, Merlin— he had yet to see the wizard in weeks. The Marchwarden of Lothlórien had been planning to head out alone and scout the area to see if travel was possible. He was packing up some provisions when Estel came barging through the tent they were sharing with their brethren.

"Rúmil has been found and brought back here by a few scouts—he has word of Lothiriel." Haldir's heart skipped a beat at the sound of Lothiriel's name on Estel's lips. Then he processed what the Ranger of the North had said, and Haldir let out a laugh of relief that sounded more like a choked sob.

"He's alive, Rúmil escaped?" Haldir moved closer, his mind branching out in too many directions for him to keep up.

"He was rescued; I will allow you to speak with him." There was a sad tone in Estel's voice that the Marchwarden found disconcerting. However, he took his chances and followed Estel out of their tent and into the main village of the hidden Woads. His brother was easy to pick out, he stood in front of a bonfire, his hair wet and matted to his back having just bathed.

"Rúmil!" Rúmil's head shot up to face his older brother, smiling in relief to see him safe and sound. He just wished he had good news to deliver—he still could not believe Lothiriel and that human. The thought of fraternizing with humans disgusted him enough. It was humans that had killed their parents, and to think that Lothiriel was romantically involved—things couldn't possibly get any worse. He held his thoughts inside his head as he embraced his brother. "What news do you bring of Lothiriel?"

Rúmil held back his discontent; his brother hadn't even asked if he was well. He didn't ask where he had been, or what torture he had to endure at the hands of these humans. "She was riding with knights, I think she may be one of them…in league with that Roman Commander, Artorious. She is alive and well, though her morals have aptly left her over the years." Rúmil stated with disdain as he looked his brother in the face, knowing what he had to say was going to break his brother's heart. They had spent years trying to find a way to this specific dimension, not even knowing if they would find Lothiriel—alive no less. But his brother wanted closure, and so here they were.

"What do you mean her morals have left her? Is she alright?" Haldir asked suspiciously as he looked at his youngest brother's angry face.

"She's intimately involved with one of the knights in Artorious' command. I didn't catch his name, only the affection he openly displayed with her." Rúmil muttered, his anger mounting steadily. He forced himself to calm down and look Haldir in the eye. "This mission was moot, she has moved on from her people, her family—her loved ones." Haldir shook his head in denial, unable to comprehend what his younger brother was saying. He was about to ask his brother to go into detail when a woman broke through the brush, looking exhausted and distraught. She stopped when she looked at the Elves; tears forming in her eyes as she finally broke down and cried.

"What's her problem?" Haldir could only shrug, and call for Estel to help interpret what the woman was babbling about amongst her tears.

"She's dead!" Estel's heart froze—who was dead?

"Who do you speak of?"

"Who else would I come to you about? Lothiriel—she sacrificed her life for the regime of Knights she has been living with over the last eight years. She drowned in the lake near the mountain pass." Haldir felt his heart constrict as Estel interpreted for the woman—word from heart wrenching word.

"It was like she wanted to die—her whole demeanor changed after Rúmil had left. I knew something was troubling her—I just didn't know what it was. She ran out onto the ice to save one of the knights from certain death, and while Arthur and his men dragged the Sarmatian Knight away—she continued to hammer into the ice. It collapsed beneath her and she was submerged instantly. She didn't come up—she didn't come up." The Woad began sobbing again and Haldir finally realized the full impact of what truly happened. He turned to his brother, who was looking utterly guilty at the moment, and he knew—he just knew his brother had something to do with this.

"What did you say to her?" Haldir barked out, demanding to know what his brother had done to drive his future bride to her watery grave. Rúmil didn't speak for the longest time, so guilt ridden as he began to sob into his arms.

"This is my entire fault. I—I told her she was no longer welcomed into our family, into any Elvish providence. That you wouldn't want spoilt goods. But the way she was flaunting herself with the knights, you should have seen it Haldir. She allowed them to openly touch her like a common prostitute." Haldir finished his brother's sentence with a right hook to his brother's face, sending him sprawling out on the ground. "I know—I shouldn't have said it, but I was furious. We took all this time, this journey—what I had to endure to find she had already settled with another man."

"What is he talking about?" The Woad asked Estel, wanting their translation so that she may hear the elf's story.

"He was calling our mission foolery—all of this to find she had already moved on with someone else." The Woad's face grew red in her anger as she stomped to Rúmil, who had just managed to get up off the ground and slapped him soundly across the face, causing his face to turn at the force.

"You fool! She kept her distance from the Knights for the most part. She worked to make a living in a tavern behind Hadrian's Wall. There were no romantic relations with anybody since we have been able to watch her from afar. She mourned the loss of a human, or something of that nature—that fact is certain. She continually turned down offers from one of the Knights, Lancelot. She was saving herself for her husband if she ever made it out of there alive." The Woad was ranting at this point, her rage focused on Rúmil as Estel translated for the woman so the elves may here her narrative.

"Oh Mandos take me—I pushed her to her death." Rúmil was sobbing again, clenching his wounded face in his shaking hands. Haldir would have comforted him if it wasn't for the fact that his words pushed Lothiriel to commit a reckless death.

"They took her! The Saxons that returned to camp were seen with a hostage. She was unconscious but alive, I am sure it is the keen they had been looking for!" A younger Woad named Alec, a scout, frantically announced as he entered the clearing. Guinevere's face paled at the mention of the Saxons, though she couldn't help but take delight in knowing Lothiriel was still out there breathing. However, she knew of Lothiriel's past with the Saxons, and she knew the Elleth was in grave danger if left there long enough.

Estel translated the man's words, noting with relief that both Rúmil and Haldir were calming down, though Rúmil was still guilt ridden, as he should be.

"Where is she being taking?" Estel asked, afraid to know the answer.

"To the Saxon's camp far north of here, I think they were intent of having their revenge on the one that cost the army so many lives. If you intend on getting her out of there alive and in one piece, I suggest you move now before the army moves out again.

"Take me there." Haldir growled, ready to face whatever obstacles to get to his beloved.

Lothiriel stayed in the corner of the hut she had been forced into. Her sharpened hearing catching every noise from outside, each time she heard approaching footsteps her heart would falter in fear. It was during those terrifying hours that Lothiriel decided to make a bonding promise to herself. She doubted she'd leave the Saxon army alive, but before she would fade, she would find the strength to kill Cerdic. The Woads, the innocent people in the villages behind Hadrian's Wall, and above all the Knights deserved it. She scavenged around the hut already, looking for sharp or heavy objects to use as weapons—but her chains only reached so far. She was left empty-handed, but she knew given the right situation the heavy chains of metal that enclosed around her ankles could be used as a weapon.

Night fell quick upon the camp; Lothiriel forced herself to stay awake even though she was nursing a head injury. Every time she felt herself slipping into sleep, she would bang her chains hard on the ground, sending the painful vibration and pull to her ankle, making the metal cut into her skin once more. She did not wish for Cerdic to find her asleep and unaware for his disgusting hands to find. She did not want to be a victim. If he was to take her body it would not be without a fight from her end. It was almost as if he had read her mind, the flap of the tent was thrown open and two guards entered pulling an exceedingly drunk leader into the tent. Lothiriel pushed herself into the far corner, pressing herself into the shadows, wishing to mold into the darkness and disappear from view.

The guards seemed not to notice her, and as soon as their leader was gently placed down on the bed they left the tent without so much as a look in her direction. Lothiriel held her breath, afraid that should she make the slightest of noise that the monster on the bed would be roused, and that she'd have to deal with him soon after. But the man wasn't asleep; he was just drunk—very drunk. He sat up on the edge of his bed of furs, seemingly rocking himself back and forth as his glazed over eyes took in the sight of his tent. Lothiriel closed her eyes and pretended that if she didn't see the Saxon monster that he wouldn't be able to see her in return.

Of course the idea was folly, he soon set his steel eyes on her and tried several times to stand up and make his way over to her, only to fall flat on his face. Lothiriel had to snort at his pathetic plight, with the condition he was in; it wouldn't take much to smother him with a pillow. Cerdic seemed to realize he was in no condition to deal with anyone or anything because he stopped halfway towards Lothiriel and simply stared at her for a moment. His gaze was unnerving as he picked apart Lothiriel's form, making the Elleth feel as if she were sitting naked before the tyrant. Eventually Cerdic grew tired and crawled back to his pile of furs where he fell back into his wasted sleep.

Lothiriel finally let out the breath she had been holding. She was safe, at least for this night.

Haldir, Elrohir, Elladan and Legolas skirted around the enemy camp. It was exceedingly easy to do given their light footsteps and the men's drunkenness. First, they looked for areas where the Saxons would keep prisoners of war. They came to the quick conclusion that the barbarians left none alive wherever they deemed to trample through and conquer. They next looked for political victims of war, but still empty handed, Haldir pressed the twins who had come ahead to check things out if they had any indication where Lothiriel would be kept. They simply stated they had not heard or saw anything about their captive Elleth. Haldir wondered if the Woads had been mistaken, perhaps his love was anchored below that frozen lake already dead.

Haldir knew in his heart she was still alive, he had felt it all the years she had been gone—and if this feeling burned strong he had no reason to think his intuition untrue. They knew they could no longer stay along the perimeter of the camp. If they wanted to make any progress they would have to go further towards the core where all the officers kept tent. They decided to split up, the twins went one way and Haldir and Legolas the other. Haldir's bow was taunt beneath this cloak, itching for a target to shoot amongst his enemies. The Prince of Mirkwood finally spotted the party they had been looking for, dead center of the camp—a tad predictable.

"She has to be with the leaders of the camp. If her previous captivity with the Saxons is true, they must keep her close and under watchful eyes." Legolas whispered as he tightened the hood of his cloak around his face. They hid the natural glow of their hair and skin, but they still stood out wearing the fine cloaks of the realms amongst the peasants and riffraff the military was made of.

Haldir closed his eyes, slowing the beating of his heart and the growing worry in his mind. Carefully, as if traveling through a dark labyrinth, Haldir's bonded soul sought out its mate and called for her to respond. The haunting echo went further and further towards the center of the camp until it stopped at dead center. Opening his eyes, he gave Legolas the nod to find the twins and continued on his own. Unlike in normal circumstances, there wasn't safety in numbers whilst one was infiltrating an enemy camp. Slinking in the shadows scarce due to the blazing bonfires surrounding him on all sides, Haldir silently swept through the drunken population, stopping only when he was outside an extravagant tent, well-armed with five guards. Five—that was a little eccentric.

Lothiriel heard the painful grunts and the gurgling of death from outside the tent. Lothiriel's fear flared at the thought of the Saxons killing off innocent prisoners acquired in similar circumstances as herself. The flap over the tent swept open in a painfully slow motion, emitting a rather tall, foreboding character dressed in a black cloak. Lothiriel waited for the ravaging of her body to begin, she knew what was expected of her by being in this situation before. Did she wish she were dead beneath the surface of that lake right now? Yes, more than anything.

Leisurely, hands with artisan fingers removed the hood of the cloak, showing off the long pale locks that flooded down well past the man's broad shoulders. Lothiriel stopped breathing, all sound stopped and she felt frozen in time—was this too a dream? Haldir walked closer to her, his form glowing, and his eyes unmistakably drinking in her entire form. He didn't free her right away like a rational being would. Instead, he pulled her to his body and placed a slow, passionate kiss that left Lothiriel winded for breath and her mind flying in a million directions before being snapped back into the depths of her mind by a strong band all at once.

"Haldir." Lothiriel whispered, and the marchwarden allowed his Elleth to trace the prominent features of his face with trembling hands. Lothiriel was openly crying, she never thought she would see his face again. At least not in the world of the living. Haldir's eyes traveled down her legs to the chains around her ankles. His face strained in obvious anger as he fingered the metal chain staked deeply into the ground. "I'm so sorry, Haldir." Lothiriel whispered breathlessly, wanting all of her transgressions in this world to leave her so that she may start her life with Haldir back home with a clean slate, but that would be up to him. The marchwarden either didn't hear her words, or he chose to ignore them for the time being. He removed his hunting knife from his boot and began to work on the foreboding lock that held Lothiriel's freedom by a thread. She had never dealt with this type of mechanics before—usually she had only dealt with rope, never this hard, heavy metal. Hissing angrily as his dagger failed to overthrow the locking mechanism, he removed one of his swords from the sheath behind his back, with quick, precise motions the blade came down five times before the chain was divided and Lothiriel was merely left with the cuff dangling around her ankle.

"Come, we must hurry before the guards posted outside this tent are found disposed of." Haldir whispered, lifting Lothiriel to her feet, practically carrying her out the front of the tent sharing his cloak and diligently checking to ensure they weren't being eyeballed or followed as they made their way through the army's camp. "Just through those trees a mile in, we have horses waiting for us." Haldir promised her, and using what strength she had left given the trying times she was finding herself in, Lothiriel pushed her body to run alongside Haldir as they put as much distance between themselves and the Saxons.

"SHE'S ESCAPED!"

"FIND HER!"

A/N

I'm BAAAAACK! :) Wow, six years-time certainly has flown by.