Summary: Achilles' heel is not his only weakness. An AU crossover between Troy and Second Age Middle Earth. Focal characters include Patroclus, Achilles, and Gil-galad, along with many others from both stories.
Disclaimer: I still don't own 'em, so no worries.
Author's Note: This chapter and the next may be a little on the short side, but if I combined them, it would end up being too much all at once. But I think this way will end up working out nicely. Many thanks yet again to my amazing reviewers: Whilom, Tori, and lozvamp for their overwhelming enthusiasm and support! And Brandi m'dear, wherever you're at, I sincerely hope all is well! Hugs to all of you for always brightening up my day! So on to the chapter now, and everybody enjoy!
Chapter 6
Early the next morning, Eudorus was only mildly surprised to see Odysseus once again approaching the Myrmidon camp.
"You are here to see Achilles, I presume?" he inquired, and the Ithacan nodded.
"Wait here one moment," Eudorus told him after handing him a goblet of wine. "I'll tell Achilles you've come."
The Myrmidon captain stuck his head into the large nearby tent, informing his commander of their guest, and soon after, Achilles himself appeared.
"Tell the men to start loading the ship," he at once ordered Eudorus, not bothering to waste his breath on pleasantries. "We're going home."
The shock on Eudorus' face was evident, yet he bowed to his lord and immediately began to carry out his orders.
Achilles then continued on his way, a smile on his face as he greeted his old comrade, and the two esteemed Greeks clinked their wine glasses together.
"It's good to see you alive and well again, my friend, after that disgrace of a battle yesterday. And no doubt, that's what you've come to talk about today, is it not?"
Odysseus stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, it is," he agreed. "Apparently you saw what happened. How many times must I say it? We need you back, Achilles."
But the golden-haired warrior remained silent, his gaze lost in the swirling blue waters of the ocean.
"Agamemnon is a proud man," Odysseus continued slowly, wisely cautious in approaching the root of their troubles, "but he knows when he's made a mistake."
That got Achilles talking. "The man sends you to make his apologies?" He looked thoroughly disgusted. "What are you doing in thrall to that pig of a king?"
Odysseus was clearly amused. "The world seems so simple to you, my friend, but when you're a king, very few choices are simple. Ithaca cannot afford an enemy like Agamemnon."
"Are we supposed to fear him?" The famed hero made it quite clear by his tone that nothing would ever cause him to fear the man he so despised.
But the older king rolled his eyes as though he were arguing with a petulant teenager. "You don't fear anyone, that's your problem. Fear can be useful." He paused. "We need you to fight – Greece needs you."
Achilles turned his gaze back to the sea. "Greece got along fine before I was born, and Greece will be Greece long after I'm dead."
"I'm not talking about the land!" Odysseus exclaimed, his frustration finally showing through. "The men need you." He leaned closer. "Stay Achilles," he pleaded, his voice low and earnest. "You were born for this war."
But Achilles only smiled slightly and shook his head. "Things are less simple today."
A reciprocating smile played on Odysseus' features. He understood, for Agamemnon had returned the girl to Achilles the previous night. "Women do have a way of…complicating things." He took a sip from his cup, yet his eyes darted over to see how his companion would respond.
Achilles leaned back casually and regarded his good friend. "Of all the kings of Greece, Odysseus, I respect you the most. But in this war, you're little more than a servant."
"Sometimes you have to serve in order to lead," Odysseus replied with a quick shrug. "I hope you understand that one day." The King of Ithaca then stood and clapped his comrade on the shoulder before returning from whence he'd come.
Achilles stayed put for a moment, idly fingering the wine goblet in his hand, and clearly occupied with his own contemplations.
"We're going home?"
The familiar voice broke into his reflections, and Achilles looked up to find his young cousin standing over him.
"We sail in the morning," he explained slowly, trying hard to ignore the hurt look in the boy's eyes.
"Greeks are being slaughtered," Patroclus told him, the concern evident in his voice. "We can't just sail away!"
His elder cousin sighed as he sought to reason with him. "It's fighting you still long for, Patroclus, but there will always be another war – that I promise you."
"These are our countrymen," Patroclus exclaimed, indignant. "You betray all of Greece just to see Agamemnon fall!"
Achilles only rose gracefully to his feet, allowing for a pregnant pause as the two warriors locked eyes in a silent battle of wills.
"Someone has to lose," he said finally, quickly turning on his heel in agitation and retreating back into the privacy of his tent.
Patroclus stood unmoving for few moments, staring after his cousin in silence and disbelief. At last, the youth likewise moved on and embarked on a despondent walk along the beach as he wrestled with his own thoughts.
When dusk settled over the landscape that evening, Patroclus was still upset, kicking along small rocks and broken shells as he mulled things over. He had grudgingly helped Eudorus and the others load the ship, but he had fastidiously avoided his cousin. And as the day had come to a close, he had opted for another venture along the beach. The cool wind blowing in off the water and the lulling, rhythmic sound of the waves always seemed to help him regain his composure when he was like this.
The boy shook his head in bitter confusion. He loved his cousin, but he just did not understand him! How important was pride to Achilles that he would let thousands of soldiers suffer for it? Especially soldiers who had done nothing to anger him themselves. They simply fought under the orders of their kings, and Achilles understood that as well as anyone. He had even tried to lecture Patroclus on that very subject just yesterday morning!
The blonde youth angrily kicked another shell that lay in his path and numbly watched it tumble along the sand. When he came up to it again, he looked down and felt a sudden pang of remorse. The shell looked exactly like one Achilles' mother, Thetis, would often use in her seashell necklaces, the latest of which now adorned Patroclus' neck. Achilles had given it to him right before they'd left for Troy.
He sighed, anger suddenly flowing out of him like waves drawn back into the sea. Perhaps Achilles was right. There would surely be other opportunities to fight, at some point in the future. Perhaps he was simply being selfish and impatient after all…
Just then, his attention was drawn to a group of soldiers who sat huddled around a campfire, talking amongst themselves. But what had caught the boy's ear was the mention of the name "Achilles." He quietly drew as close to the congregated men as he could, utilizing one of the nearby tents to better conceal himself. He leaned forward, listening intently to hear whatever it was these men were saying about his cousin.
"If only he would come back," one of them said, passing a chunk of bread to his comrade who nodded solemnly in agreement.
"That Hector is a menace," said another man, wincing as the man beside him put a fresh bandage on his injured arm.
"He do that to you?" asked an older soldier whose left eye had been lost in a battle long since past. The wounded man nodded.
"He killed my nephew today, too," a weary-looking soldier added, his voice hoarse. "I promised his mother I would keep him safe…"
Unable to continue, the man broke down and choked back tears, nodding his gratitude when a friend laid a steady hand on his shoulder.
"Hector fights like no one I've ever seen, except Achilles," the one-eyed soldier elaborated. "He seems to be everywhere on the field at once, always leaving a trail of stinking death behind him. Achilles is the only one who can beat him, mark my words."
"What about the Elf King?" another questioned him.
The old fighter shrugged. "It doesn't matter. They will have no need for him if Hector continues to fight so well. Even Ajax is dead now, and we're all doomed to follow since the untouchable Achilles clearly doesn't care what becomes of the rest of us."
Patroclus at once rose and hurried back in the direction from which he had come, unable to hear any more and furiously berating himself for his previous thoughts. Him, selfish? It was true, he did want badly to fight in a real battle; but more than anything, he wanted to help his fellow Greeks. How could his desires be purely selfish when their realization would bring such joy and hope to his countrymen?
No. The only selfishness here was on the part of Achilles, who would not stir from his place of stubborn indifference beside the ships. His return would save hundreds, if not thousands, of lives; yet he blatantly refused to show his face, being well aware of the consequences, and all because one man had dared insult him.
Patroclus fumed, staring out across the ocean. The waters were of no comfort to him now. He had to say something – had to confront his cousin, even if it meant falling out of the great warrior's favor for quite some time. But he would not endure the thought of deserting these men without speaking up on their behalf. The guilt would haunt him for the rest of his life, no matter how much glory he might someday win. For glory was nothing, utterly worthless, in comparison to the lifeblood of his fellow men.
With his new resolve firm, and the passion of his cause beating brightly in his chest, the boy headed back toward the Myrmidon shelters. His purpose was clear, and there was no turning back. He would speak with Achilles.
Author's End Note: Ok, the next chapter's almost halfway done already, so you guys shouldn't have to wait long to see how this confrontation plays out. Thank you so much, Tori, for taking a look at it for me - you're awesome, chica-chee! But I'm sure we'll talk about it more before I actually get it posted. Thanks for reading, everyone, ttyl!