The Age of Men
Synopsis: not all Elves sailed to the West and left the land of Men. Those who stayed behind didn't always stay hidden. These are the stories of those who remained... [Modern AU] First story: Troy
NA: I absolutely love the idea of the modern world crossing over with the ancient world that Tolkien created. So I am going to be writing a series of one-shots, featuring Elves and their interactions with the modern world. This first one is within Troy and features Hector (brother of Paris).
Okay, so this is going to be written in a format that is similar to how Homer's works are written. In his stories, there is a particular style that is really intriguing and both interesting to read and interesting to write. It isn't my usual style but I wanted to keep my writing consistent with the era.
If you enjoy my story, please review. My next may be... WW2. I honestly haven't decided yet, so I can be swayed...
Hector stood atop the great walls of Troy and looked far off into the distance.
Beyond the city lay the unending, unquenchable fires of his enemies. For years, smoke had risen from the now permanent camp and threatened the sanctity of his home and hearth. Despite his great love for his brother and the potential honor that he could personally achieve through the glory of war, he often resented Paris for the mayhem that he had brought to their doorstep. Could he truly blame Helen for falling in love, a condition no doubt spurred on by some mischief loving God? Perhaps Poseidon had hatched some new, scheming plot, as many times the God of unruly waves and waters had done before?
In his heart, he wondered whether he would ever see the plains before him barren once more. Who was he to stand up against the greatest warriors who now lived? Was he truly a match for Odysseus's skills as an archer, or the swift feet of Achilles or the sheer strength of Ajax?
He sighed and leaned against the rough stone. The space was deserted, for not every part of the great wall was manned with guards. It was for this reason that Hector chose the spot, so that he could be alone.
A part of him struggled with the war itself. It had been brought to his home, and for that, he would always react in kind and with pride. However, he didn't deny the validity of his enemies fight. An oath they had all sworn to each other, when Helen had been betrothed to Melenaus, the King of Sparta. An oath that they had proven was not taken lightly. If he had sworn such a promise, in front of Kings and Princes, he would have leapt at the chance of proving his worth and earning honor. By stealing herself away with his brother, Helen had brought pain and anger to her forgotten King. If his wife Andromache had done the same, no God or Man could stop his quest for retribution.
The wind blew through his hair, grazing his cheeks refreshingly. Above him, the goddess Selene drove her shining and radiant chariot, moving ever closer to Eos, that fresh-faced and rosy guardian of Dawn.
"You look troubled, friend," said a voice.
Hector raised himself from his leaning position and looked over to the voice.
His breath caught in his throat, as he beheld what could only be a God.
The man exuded a radiance that he had never seen before. Countless time he had heard talk of the beauty of the Gods and never had he truly grasped the meaning. The man's golden hair shone in the moonlight, as fine and beautiful as the tresses of Hera herself. His skin, unmarked by the hardships of age, held neither line nor wound. Was this Apollo, the God that he had worshipped for years?
Hector had studied the Gods in his time and knew that such a visit would not be gifted lightly. His moderate nature made him shrink from groveling and his good sense made him wait patiently for the God to reveal his identity on his own whim. Such as with Zeus and his maidens, it was not for man to dictate the flow of time, but for the Gods to bend Man to their whim.
"I am troubled, stranger," he replied, warily.
"A stranger I am, yes, but perhaps one who may be able to cure your concerns or lend advice, if wanted."
The stranger moved to stand beside him, looking out onto the plain and the hoards of men that now slept in the distance. His face seemed pensive and bothered by the sight, as if confused at the actions of the enemy.
"I always welcome the council of others, for my concerns are not unique to myself but are surely the haunt of many men who have since lived and died in this often cruel world. I am Prince Hector, Son of King Priam who is the child of the founder of Troy and so most at home within these walls than all others. Long have I looked out upon this field of torches and shields and wondered at the purpose of this war. While my actions defend the people of my city, with each act of defense I tear from the world a father, a brother or child, and this lays heavily upon my mind. Truly, stranger, can you answer me this: is this war worth fighting for?"
The stranger lay silent for a moment, although his eyes danced as he thought over his reply. Hector noted the way he seemed to be unmoved by the revelation of his identity. Only Heroes, Kings or a God would be unmoving in the presence of a Prince. All others would cast themselves to the ground, praying for his good fortune and health.
In time, he turned away from the view and his eyes flashed as he spoke to Hector, "Hector, Prince of Troy and child of this city, to ask this question, you must decide whether your people are worth fighting for. Are you Prince in name only, or Prince by decision and action?"
Appalled at the suggestion that he wouldn't be faithful to his people, Hector replied, "I am a Prince by decision and action. I would gladly die under the defense of these people. But to continue this fight over the lust and whims of a woman... to see my people wounded and killed because of her decision, this pains me..."
"Do you truly think that this war is being fought because of Helen, who so readily abandoned her child and husband for another?"
"If not for Helen, then for what?"
"Long has Troy attracted the attention of the great Kings and Princes of afar," said the stranger, his expression serious, "I have travelled to many kingdoms, and spoke to many of the men in the field below us long before this war was launched. It could not be denied that there was jealousy of this cities riches and of the peace and beauty that it upheld. The spoils of previous wars had grown thin for many Heroes, who looked towards their own dwindling herds and pleading people without grain or land to give them. Soon, their eyes looked keenly in the direction of this city, which stood strongly, of that there is no doubt, but also stood isolated and alone in his potential defense. United, the great Heroes would prove difficult to defeat and with this in mind, they launched their ships and readied their galleys for loot and riches."
"Who are you?" Replied Hector, "that you sat by the hearths of so many great and noble men, although enemies of mine they now are? Are you some God, come to me to cast doubt in my mind and so spurn on your own desires to see Troy fall and vanquished from history? Or are you some wise and knowing sage, who comes to me with words of prophecy for me to heed?"
"I am neither," responded the stranger, although his lips betrayed a smile of humor at the suggestions, "I am not a God, who plays with the lives of Men and never understands the fragility and passion of mortal life. In my time I have seen many friends pass and enter that inevitable realm of death where no life can return from. But neither am I prophet, for my eyes cannot see the future as many of my own King and Queens have once been capable of and whose departure signified the end of my peoples presence and the dawning of the age of Men."
"So then you declare yourself to be other than Man, although not a God or a Prophet as I had guessed."
"Yes, for there are more things with thoughts and feelings on this world than just Man. Long have they been forgotten, although, like myself, some still remain, despite the call of the sea and the longing to leave this land."
"For what purpose do you then enter this war between Men?"
The stranger sighed, "Such a question is one that I ask of myself often. Men are complicated by nature and their actions often confuse me. Yet, I find them immensely curious and capable of great feats and actions. In many ways, my curiosity has impeded my journey to join my people. But I did not come to you, seeing your expression of dismay from afar, to speak of my own journeys and ordeals but to offer you guidance and advice, such that I could give. Now, tell my Prince Hector of Troy, what is it that you fight for?"
He paused and looked behind him, at the grandly light palace of his father. Like some monument to the Gods, it stood proudly in the night as a testament to the great wealth and strength of his people. Below it, less regal but no less important, where the houses of his people.
"I fight for the peace of my people."
"If I have learned anything about war," said the stranger, "is that the drive to fight does not come from grand pictures of nobility and pride. It comes instead for the want to see your friends and family safe, for the anguish that losing may cause if the battle harms those persons who you love more than you love yourself. Who, among these vast city, does Prince Hector love beyond reason?"
"My wife," he answered instantly, "and my son, Scamandrius, named for that great river which lies near my beloved city and feeds life to its people. My father, who is wise and caring and has never been cruel, and... my brother, who thinks more with his heart than his head, but does so only because it is his nature."
The stranger smiled, his expression kind and warm, "these are the people you must fight for. They are the people who will be affected by your victories and failures, and these are the people you must think of when you rally your men for battle. For when the time of reckoning draws near, and the final stroke is made, it will be them who appear in your mind and guide your hand."
The strangers words made him silent and thoughtful. Every morning he woke with a pain in his chest and a knot of anxiety in his stomach. Beyond the hope of glory and riches, his reasons for fighting slept soundly in their beds, with little thoughts in their mind for the agony their safety filled him.
"And who do you live for?" He asked, wondering at the stranger now.
The strangers expression fell, as if a great cloud of morbidity had descended over him.
"Those who I once lived and fought for are now gone but I will speak of them to you. For many years I have not shared their stories and I fear that my memories of them will fade one day. Of many Kings there are today, but none were as kind and noble as the King of Gondor, Aragorn. Humbled by the death of his parents and educated by the most learned of my people, he fought in his life for the freedom of Man and for a peace between all. It was he who taught me to look towards Men and to not choose the isolation of status or power over friendship and peace."
"I have not heard of this King of Gondor, although a gracious lord he must have been."
"He reigned long ago, although his line still continues today and upholds the values he once fought for. And this is why my advice is true and said with purpose, for I know that my dear friends blood still flows and carries on his love of peace."
The stranger looked squarely at him, and Hector cocked his head thoughtfully. The look he gave him seemed pointed, as if he was trying to communicate some idea to him.
"Surely these heirs of such a King are noble indeed. Do these still lead men, or have they fallen in status, although not honor, and now work the land like so many do, struggling against the elements for the benefit of those less noble above them?"
The stranger laughed and the sound of his voice made Hector think of bells in the wind, or the whisper of a Harp as it flows through the open doors of a seaside palace.
"Men where never masters of subtlety," replied the stranger, "and even the heir of Aragorn, son of Arathorn, stands confused before me at my words. How this reminds me of my conversations many ages before, where proud Gimli would regard me with confusion, as if I spoke in riddles or Quenya!"
"Stranger!" Replied Hector, "you say now that I am the heir of your long passed friend? That my line extends and once ruled over a land of Gondor? You forget that our family, fiercely proud of our line, can trace our history back, from our ancestor Tros, to his grandfather Dardanus and to the mighty and powerful Zeus, who resides on his throne in Olympus."
"True that your line is long, but its start is not with Zeus, who you believe rules from the sky with his wife, fair Hera. Your line stretches farther than you can conceive, and, indeed, does not start with Aragon but further still stretches to those immortal twins who chose wisely for themself and further still until the creation of this land and the first passage of my people."
"And by this, stranger, you tell me through your stories of friendship that you are eons old? Perhaps immortal?"
"Take from that what you will," he replied, although the light of Selene showed Hector a man who took no care of the passing of days or nights, and who sought light for other reasons than those of Man would. "But in my revelations, I still seek to console you and to give you reason for fighting against those who would wish to take away your peace and people. At some point, you will be no doubt called upon to battle against a man of the enemy, perhaps Agamemnon, Ajax or Odysseus. These men, although campaigning with malicious purpose, are strong and cunning, and will not hesitate against you. After your sacrifices are made to Apollo and the thigh bone of your whitest heifer is burned upon the fire and the entrails buried among the hot embers, you must also cast your mind to your friends and family, and remember why you fight as fiercely as you must."
"And yet you tell me to offer tribute to the Gods, although you yourself are immortal and wise?"
"I did not come here to bring doubt into your mind about your ways and your beliefs. These are yours and are not mine to take away. Do your rituals and sacrifices as you always would, for these actions may bring comfort to you and to those who believe in their power. Of the Gods' existence, I will not speak, for it is not my place to do so."
Hector nodded, his mind whirling with the information he had learned. He wondered whether the man was indeed not a God, but instead a Titan. His admission of being unable to see the future meant he was not Prometheus, although his interest in Man spoke of a similar disposition.
The night had become still during their talk, until only the distance sounds of restless birds could be heard echoing. He thought of his son and wife, and whether either had noticed his absence. Soon, Dawn would arise in her fresh and rosy-cheeked way, and the war council would make a decision. Soon, he would face a warrior of renown in single combat and battle for the fate of his people and city. Or, he reminded himself, for the fate of his wife and child.
The stranger didn't speak, but looked out towards the fires of the enemies camp and then turned away. He watched as the man walked away from him, his footsteps light and soundless. His own breathing seemed loud in comparison to his quiet ways.
Although he longed to shout and stop the man from leaving, the words died in his throat.
In his time of need, motivation had presented itself. If the stranger had wished to offer more, he would have done so at his own volition. A part of him that he never wanted to fully acknowledge, feared the stranger who had revealed to him secrets that he dared not fully believe. Perhaps, questioning the Gods would be his downfall? Perhaps, the stranger had been a test of Apollo and had spoken in riddles and analogies, and not in truths?
His mind felt clouded as he thought, as if some subtle magic had caused his thoughts to fly to the wind and refuse to manifest.
A new thought occurred to him and he wondered at how he could so readily allow the stranger to depart. Since his youth, he had yearned for a visit from some being who could guide him and provide him with the secrets of the world. Yet, one had presented himself and he had so quickly allowed him to slip off, without even a parting word.
Within a moment, the haze had disappeared and he found his voice once more.
"Do not leave! I have more to ask!"
The darkness swallowed the stranger, leaving Hector alone atop the walls of Troy.
He breathed in the fresh, cold air. In the silence, his breath sounded loud and oafish, as if disturbing the tranquil peace of the space.
He sighed, accepting that the situation had always been out of his control. He probably had been chosen for the visit, long ago. Even if it seemed that the stranger had spied him from afar. It was easier for him to accept that the situation was beyond him than rue the opportunity that he had missed.
The first touches of light started to glimmer at the horizon, as if a curtain was being slowly drawn open on the world.
He turned away, seeking warmth of his wife's body beside him and the sounds of his son as he greeted another new day.
AN: I hope that you enjoyed that... let me know if you had any thoughts or critique. Also, let me know if you have any suggestions for other timelines and scenarios.