Chance Encounter: Return to Middle Earth
Disclaimer: I don't own Balian, Imad, Legolas, Aragorn, Will, Jack, Paris, Achilles, Merry, Pippin... you get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?
Chapter 9: Boats in Odd Places
Legolas grimaced as he realized that their boat was in the White Tree. Well, partially, at least. He picked a pale leaf out of his wet hair. Wasn't it sacrilege to harm the tree? The elf had a feeling they were in for a spot of trouble.
"Legolas?" said Faramir. "Can it really be you?"
"No, it's Balian" the elf managed to retort dryly, jumping out of the boat with a metal chest under his arm.
Legolas turned back to the boat. "It's safe to jump, everyone!" he called. "Actually, Willie, I'll catch you."
Two women, one fair and one dark lowered themselves from the boat. A fat man followed, with much less grace, and landed on his behind. Another man, this one tiny, landed on the fat man. That left a little dark haired boy. "You sure you won't miss?" he asked nervously. Now that he was required to jump from a great height, it didn't look so exciting anymore.
"Trust me, little one," said Legolas. "I never miss." The boy looked doubtful. Faramir decided to intervene.
"How about we steal some of the king's cushions?" he suggested. "Then we can set them on the ground and it won't matter if Legolas misses or not."
The boy's eyes were wide. "Steal the king's cushions?' he asked. "Won't she be mad?"
Faramir frowned while Legolas disguised his laugh as a series of unconvincing coughs. Why in the world would the boy assume that a king was female? "Why would the king be a she?" asked Faramir.
"Well, Mama's the Pirate King, and she gets mad when I use her cushions to build forts."
"Well, of course," said Elizabeth impatiently. "But this is safety we're talking about, not play. If you used my cushions to save someone's life, I definitely would not get mad."
Faramir raised an eyebrow. 'I'll explain later,' Legolas mouthed. He handed the chest to Elizabeth
"Well, he won't be mad," said Faramir. "He's a very kind man."
'The queen might not like it though,' he thought. Women were...well...women. They didn't like dirt, in general. How they could tolerate marrying men who were prone to attracting dirt — was beyond his comprehension. He got his men to bring out the stacks of plump fluffy cushions.
"Ready?" said Legolas.
"Ready, set, jump!" shouted the boy. He bunched up his leg muscles and leapt.
Legolas did catch the boy, but because of the boy's enthusiastic jump, the momentum knocked him onto his back. Thank the Valar for Arwen's beautiful cushions.
"That was awesome!" declared the boy. "Can we do it again? Please?"
"Uh, Willie, no," wheezed Legolas. "You are a very big boy, and I think I'm too old to take these rough and tumble games."
At Faramir's shout, Aragorn simply had to go out to investigate, followed closely by Barbossa, Achilles, Paris, Éomer, Pintel, Ragetti, Merry and Pippin. "I'll just be a moment, Whelp," said Jack, before he too joined the others. The men, having much longer legs than the hobbits, raced ahead. Pippin noticed with some interest that Jack's body tilted backwards when he ran, and the pirate was waving his arms like a panicking lass.
"Wouldn't that make it awfully difficult to run?" he commented to Merry.
"More difficult than getting a boat to the seventh level of Minas Tirith and in the White Tree of all places?" asked Merry.
"I guess not," said Pippin.
A small crowd of elite guards and noblemen had gathered around the White Tree, or rather, what remained of it. "Let me through!" came a deep rich roar. Paris stood on the tips of his toes to look over the heads of the other spectators and glimpsed what he thought was a small moving mountain with masses of red hair.
"That's Gimli," puffed Pippin, who'd finally caught up with the rest of the Big Folk. "You can tell by his voice."
"You mean this is the Gimli, as in Legolas' friend the dwarf?"
"The one and only," said Merry. "This should be interesting."
The crowd had parted to let the king and his company through. A boat, about twenty five feet in length, had its hull caught in the white branches of the tree. Its prow rested on the flagstones below. A familiar looking being with a head of long golden hair and pointy ears was looking about him in bewilderment. If his national sacred icon hadn't just been destroyed by a ship, Aragorn would've laughed. He'd never seen Legolas looking so dishevelled before.
"How the blazes did you get a boat in this tree?" demanded Barbossa.
Elizabeth whipped around. Barbossa was here? How the blazes did he get here?
"It's nice to see you too, Barbossa," said Legolas sarcastically.
"You villain!" Anna-Maria screeched as she lunged at Barbossa. Elizabeth and Gibbs managed to pull her back. "You took Jack's ship and left him on Tortuga to rot!"
"I knew you'd warm up to me," said Jack, smiling brilliantly.
"And you!" snarled the Haitian woman, breaking free of Elizabeth and Gibbs. In two strides she was before Jack, and her hand connected soundly with his cheek.
"Did you deserve that, Uncle Jack-Jack?" asked Willie.
"Not really," said Jack, rubbing his face gingerly. Anna-Maria glared at him, fire blazing in her coffee-coloured eyes. She stuck out her chin, and she seemed to be preparing to slap Jack again. Jack quickly took a step backwards. That woman had a very strong arm. "Well, possibly, maybe, a little," admitted the charming pirate.
"Of course you did!" spat Anna-Maria. "You stole my boat, again!"
"Was that leaky trash your..."
Thwack. Anna-Maria had slapped Jack again, on the other cheek.
"You definitely deserved that," said Willie knowingly. If someone called his ship trash, he would slap him too.
"All right, I confess," said Jack dramatically, holding up his hands. "I borrowed your boat, without permission but with every intention of returning it, savvy?"
"That's what you said seven years ago!" screamed Anna-Maria, spraying Jack's face with spittle.
"Well that ship sank," said Jack with a grimace. "I did mean to give you the Interceptor, honest." He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Anna-Maria, darling," he said solemnly. "I swear, on me honour, that I, Captain Jack Sparrow, will give you your promised boat, all right?"
"You will?" Anna-Maria was so surprised and pleased by his gentlemanly ways and courtly language that she forgot to be angry with him. That rogue was really very charming, despite all his faults and fickleness. And he would be a beautiful man, if he would only wash sometimes and not be drunk all the time.
"Of course, luv," said Jack, spreading his hands. "Who am I?"
Anna-Maria grinned. "You're Captain Jack Sparrow," she said.
"Exactly," said Jack in satisfaction. At least someone knew the answer. He glanced up at the boat in the tree with interest. Its messiness contrasted nicely with the order of Minas Tirith, or so he thought.
"So, I guess our vessels tend to end up in odd places, eh?" said Jack. "First, it's the Pearl and the Dutchman on a rock, then it's the Pearl in a wee pond, and now..." He spotted the Dead man's chest in Elizabeth's arms.
"Thump — I mean, the heart!" cried Jack, pointing excitedly at the chest. "That's Will's heart!"
"Did I hear wrongly or did you just call Will by his real name?" said Legolas. Everyone looked at him strangely. "Never mind," he added.
Jack snatched the chest from Elizabeth and raced back to the Houses of Healing. Elizabeth chased after him, shouting at him to return the chest to her.
"Mahal's beard!" cried Gimli. "Where have you been you pointy-eared elvish princeling? I'm going to kill you! And Faramir wasn't joking. There really is a boat in the tree! Was it raining cushions?"
"It's good to see you too, Gimli," said Legolas, who'd regained his breath by now. The two friends hugged each other, laughing.
Then Aragorn and Faramir decided to join in welcoming Legolas back to Middle Earth. In amongst this impromptu celebration, Willie, Gibbs, Marty and Anna-Maria felt left out and awkward. That was when Jack came running back. "Aragorn!" he shouted. "Get yer sorry self in the infirmary! Will needs you! And Barbossa, Lizzie listens to you. You get her away before she drives herself mad with worry, savvy?"
Willie turned to Gibbs. "Are they talking about my papa, Mr. Gibbs?" he asked.
"I should think so," said Anna-Maria, who still had not forgiven Gibbs for falling for Beckett's trick. "I only know one Will Turner, and that's your old man."
Faramir gaped at the strange dark man who was wearing as much kohl as a Haradrim princess. Didn't he know that Aragorn was the High King of Gondor? How could anyone address a king like that?
"How's Will?" asked Legolas as he and Aragorn ran to the infirmary, followed closely by the others.
"Not well," said Aragorn. "Whoever named him named him well. If not for his will to live, he would've been dead by now."
"Just as well," said Legolas. "They have waited so long for each other."
They were in such a hurry that they did not bother knocking before barging into Will's room. Elizabeth was kneeling by his bedside, holding his hand to her lips. She was crying. Will, on the other hand, seemed more content than Legolas had ever seen him. "Where's my son?" he managed to say. "I want to see him before..."
"There'll be plenty of time later," said Aragorn in a no-nonsense tone. "Right now, we need to get your heart back to you."
The king of Gondor thought that he was hiding his nervousness quite effectively. He had no idea how anyone was supposed to put a heart back inside a man's chest. 'May the Valar give me guidance,' he thought. 'I'm going to need it.'
"Send out a hundred knights!" Richard ordered. "They cannot have gone far. I want Ibelin here, dead or alive! Preferably alive. I want to kill him myself!"
"As you wish, milord," said Gerard de Ridefort, getting up. After seeing from a distance what Balian was capable of, he doubted that Richard had the prowess needed to kill such a man. However, he did as Richard commanded. Richard was Henry and Eleanor's son after all. One did not cross Eleanor of Aquitaine.
Gerard sighed. He had a feeling that Balian was a difficult one to catch, dead or alive. Dead would certainly make things easier. He reminded himself to bring a few crossbowmen, just in case.
Balian cradled Sibylla in his arms. Her blood soaked his surcoat. He'd never felt so much fear. It wrapped itself around his bones, seeping into his mind like a dark poisonous mist. They could not ride fast, for fear of further aggravating Sibylla's wound. She drifted in and out of consciousness as he bore her away from Tripoli. Sometimes, she called out to him from her fever induced nightmares. At other times, she wept, losing precious moisture.
"Balian, we cannot tarry," said Imad. "We must get out of enemy territory by tonight, for the...for your son's sake." He'd been about to say 'for the little prince's sake', for that was what Barisian was. He was the heir to a precarious throne, and it was best for Balian and his family if the little boy never sat on it.
"But Sibylla can't..." began Balian.
"Listen," said Yusuf, who was a physician by trade, and had no time for romantic sentiments. "The sooner she gets to Jerusalem, the sooner she can get help. She has lost too much blood, and the desert djinn are drawn to sickness."
"Hold on, my love," whispered Balian to the unconscious woman in his arms as he urged his horse into the smoothest canter possible. He glanced backwards, and swore loudly in Greek, Elvish, Pelagostos, French, and any other language he remotely knew. Imad and Yusuf both turned to him with confused expressions, and then they both swore along with him. Well, Yusuf swore. Imad was too well brought up to use any vulgar words.
"Templars," spat Balian. They were the bane of his existence, with the possible exception of orcs. He had no choice but to kick his horse into a gallop. However, the horse accidentally plunged its hoof into some desert creature's burrow, and with a trilling scream it tripped, snapping its leg and throwing its riders into the sand. The rough landing drove the breath from Balian's lungs. Sibylla cried out as the impact broke the arrow. Her cry made Balian scramble to her side. "No, no, no," he was saying, as he lifted her into his arms. Her face was ashen and waxy, like that of a corpse. The horse was struggling to its feet. One of its legs was bent in an impossible angle.
Yusuf turned his horse around and rode back. He didn't know who the most important person was in this game of life and death, but he definitely wasn't it. The Templars were approaching swiftly. He dismounted. "Get on!" he shouted at Balian.
"The horse can't carry all of us!" said Balian. "Here, take Sibylla! Take her to safety!" He was ready to die defending his family if need be.
"Get on, Frank!" said Yusuf. He shoved Balian towards the horse, pushed him into the saddle and then handed the unconscious Sibylla to him. "Ride to safety! Yalla!" The realization dawned on Balian.
"I can't let anyone else die for me!" he insisted.
"Allah save us!" said Imad. He pulled his sash off his waist and tied Barisian to his front. "Your father is the most stubborn man I know," he said to the child. "Yusuf is the second most stubborn man." With that, he rode back to where the two men were arguing about who should die for whom.
"Balian, ride!" said Imad in his most authoritative tone. "Yusuf, you ride with me!" Thus rearranged, they rode on.
"Have hope!" called Imad. "The border is in sight!" The Templars were slowly but surely gaining on them. Their horses were tired. At the lead was Gerard de Ridefort himself. He'd been in Guy's faction and he blamed all the bad fortune of the Latin Kingdom on Balian. Making a blacksmith the Marshal of Jerusalem had broken the Great Chain of Being, and they were paying for this transgression of God's laws. Seeing that Balian would soon cross the border and be out of their reach, Gerard ordered his crossbowmen to fire armour piercing bolts.
It was difficult to aim properly with crossbows while being seated on galloping horses, but one bolt hit Balian in the shoulder, piercing chain mail, skin and flesh to lodge its head deeply in his muscle. He uttered a short cry of pain. God, these crossbow bolts hurt. Only stubborn determination kept him from falling out of the saddle. The horse's hooves flew over the boundary and out of reach of Gerard's crossbows. Finally, they were safe.
Gerard watched them disappear. He cursed. Why did that commoner have to be so damned lucky? He didn't want to be the one who had to tell Richard that Balian had escaped yet again.
Balian, Imad, Yusuf, Sibylla and Barisian rode into Jerusalem. They were all exhausted, and two of their company had been shot. Underneath his mask of dirt, Balian was pale from pain and fatigue. He could not even dismount without help. Andromache rushed out to receive them. 'By Zeus' beard,' she thought. Was it even possible for Balian to return from one of his ventures unscathed?
Andromache took the little boy from Imad. The child was hungry and tired. Maybe it was because Andromache was a woman and a mother as well, but Barisian immediately took to her and settled quietly into her arms. She took him down the kitchens to find him something to eat. Later, she would introduce him to her own son. It would be good for him to have some company while his parents were occupied with matters of life and death.
"Sibylla," croaked Balian, as he was half carried to his bed.
"Yusuf's looking after her," she heard Imad say. The spymaster then proceeded to use all his powers of persuasion to convince Balian that he was not all right and needed to rest.
"You poor darling," Andromache murmured to the child whom she took to be Balian's son. The familial resemblance was too much for him to be anyone else's child. Barisian devoured the soft vegetables and the bread in goat's milk that Andromache was feeding him. When he'd had enough, he began to fuss. Andromache carried him up to the room where Astyanax was napping under the watchful eye of a maid. Within moments, Balian's heir was asleep, next to Hector's. Andromache waited for a while before getting up to pay a visit to the boy's father.
Balian was sitting up in bed. His shoulder had been bound, but he had not bothered to put on his shirt. It was far too warm for him to need it.
"How are you?" she asked, sitting in a chair beside the bed.
"I've been better," he admitted. "How's Sibylla?"
Worry had etched itself onto his face. There was so much anguish in those brown eyes. Andromache suddenly felt the need to comfort him as if he was her brother, a younger brother, to be exact, even though he was older than her. He was so vulnerable, especially in matters of the heart.
"I don't know," she said. "But I'm sure she'll be fine."
"She was fevered when I last saw her, Andromache," said Balian. "That was how it started for my father. He became weaker and weaker. The bad humours overwhelmed him, and as strong as my father was, he couldn't defeat them. How can Sibylla fight the fever?"
"I am so sorry," said Andromache. She understood his pain. She too had been widowed, in a sense. Why did good people have to suffer this sort of agony? Balian was the last man who deserved it. Well, Balian and Hector, and maybe Will Turner.
"How's my son?" Balian's voice broke through her thoughts.
"He's fine," said Andromache, relieved that she could at least give him one piece of good news. "I fed him. He's asleep in Astyanax's room right now. I thought he needed rest more than a bath. And you, Balian; you need sleep too. Don't tell me you don't, because I won't have any of this 'I'm fine' nonsense."
"I can't sleep, Andromache. She could be dying. I need to be there beside her."
"You won't do her any good if you die of exhaustion. Now listen to me, Balian. Close your eyes."
Balian gave up trying to argue with her and did as he was told. Within moments, he was asleep.
Elizabeth paced outside Will's room impatiently. She'd been chased out, and so had Jack, since the pirate had proved to be a very big distraction with his incessant talking. Anna-Maria was also outside keeping Elizabeth and Willie company. "He'll be fine," said the Haitian woman. "Will Turner is a strong man, and Legolas did say that this Aragrog or Aragon or Ara-something is a very good healer."
Will's wife rubbed her upper arms nervously. "Does he know how to replace a heart?"
Anna-Maria couldn't think of any answer to that, so she kept silent. Willie watched his mother with some concern. He'd never seen her so vulnerable and frightened. He wished he was a big strong pirate like his papa or the Captain, able to send away all her worries. It seemed to take hours, but Legolas finally came out with a smile.
"Will's going to be fine," he said.
"Can I see him?" asked Elizabeth.
"He's asleep at the moment, but you can go in and watch him sleep if you want. You're his wife. I have no right to stop you."
Aragorn came out. "I am never going to cut open anyone's chest or handle live warm beating hearts ever again," he declared. Elizabeth was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for this man, this king, who'd saved her husband's life. She threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek, startling everyone who was there.
"Thank you so much!" she said. "You've given me back my husband, and my son his father. How can we ever repay you?"
Before Aragorn could reply, someone else answered for him. "It's his pleasure, believe me," said a low melodious female voice.
"Arwen," said Aragorn, going over to kiss his wife. "What took you so long? Didn't you hear about the boat in the tree..."
"And my cushions?" said the Queen of Gondor. "Of course I heard about it all. However, Estel, you left me to fend off thirteen of your councillors while you played healer. Did you forget that you had a meeting scheduled for today? Truly, I have no desire to discuss the appointment of the court historian."
"Are you dealing with that too?" said Éomer. "Why do these councillors all seem to think that writing the history of the War is important? Anyway, isn't Frodo already doing it? We could always borrow his and then add little bits of our own."
Jack stared at the Queen of Gondor. He'd never seen anything so beautiful in his life. If the Black Pearl was suddenly transformed into a living being, she'd look like Arwen. No wonder Aragorn could stay with her for the rest of his life. He was a very lucky man; very lucky indeed. 'And she gave up immortality for him?' thought the pirate. Did women have different priorities to men, or was it the difference between pirates and aristocracy?
Arwen greeted Elizabeth with all the grace befitting of elven royalty. "Welcome to Gondor," she said. "You must be tired, considering how you arrived. Since your husband is not yet awake, maybe you and your son would like to rest and refresh yourselves, so to be ready for him when he does wake."
Elizabeth had to admit that she did crave for a nice decent hot bath with scented oils and bubbles...lots and lots of bubbles. "That would be lovely, milady," she said, curtseying as she'd been taught when she'd been a little girl. Maybe all this aristocratic etiquette might just come in handy after all.
Mother and son followed Arwen as she glided through the many corridors. Normal people walked, there was no other way to describe the Queen's movements. She was so graceful, as if her feet did not touch the ground at all. Elizabeth decided that her stay in Gondor would be interesting, to say the least.
Aragorn downed his third glass of wine to calm his nerves. His blood was still roaring in his ears and he continued to perspire. Never in his life had he done something so risky, and he'd done a lot of risky things in his time. It wasn't hard to admit that he never wanted to see anyone's beating heart again.
They were all gathered in the king's study, well, almost all. After Arwen had stopped berating the men —males, rather— for the sorry state of her cushions, she'd taken Elizabeth and Willie to see Will. The other women were resting in the Queen's quarters, having bathed and eaten. Aragorn had left a healer there with the young pirate, just in case he displayed some of Legolas' and Balian's tendencies to escape from the sickbed when he was not ready. Aragorn liked to think that he was the epitome of an ideal patient.
"You did well, laddie," said Gimli. "That wee lad wouldn't have lived without you."
"The hands of a king really are the hands of a healer," said Achilles in genuine admiration. Legolas, who was back to his normal meticulous self, raised an eyebrow when he heard the brawny Greek. The lord of the Myrmidon sounded like a boy speaking of his idol. Now that was an amusing thought.
There came an urgent but polite knock on the door. "Come in," said Aragorn. It was Beregond, the captain of the elite guard. "A messenger from the border, milord," he said.
"Send him in," said Aragorn.
A ragged man with blood streaking his face stumbled in, almost toppling over before the king. "Haradrim raiders, Sire," he croaked. "Raiders and pirates. They came from both land and the river to attack us on two fronts. We did not know of it until they were upon us. My captain sent me to tell you, and it wasn't easy to break through the enemy ranks, milord."
"What of your contingent?" demanded Aragorn. The man shook his head.
"The captain told me to ride to Minas Tirith with all haste, and to tell you of our situation." Then the man broke down into tears. "He was my brother! I told him to go, but he wouldn't listen, and he wouldn't let me stay and fight beside him either..."
"What is your name, soldier?" asked Aragorn.
"Minalcar, son of Mardil, Sire," replied the man.
"Take him to the Houses of Healing," Aragorn said to Beregond. He turned back to the soldier. "If your brother is still alive and not in the hands of the enemy, we'll find him."
Minalcar nodded and followed Beregond out.
"What is going on?" asked Legolas. "Why are there still raids?"
"I don't know," said Aragorn "but these raids at the borders have been going on for some time now. Whenever we send out more men to fight the raiders, they simply...disappear, as if they've merged themselves with the elements. We've guessed that they were Haradrim, but only today have we had that assumption confirmed. They leave almost no clues at all. At the site of each raid, only one or two bodies were found, and they were all Gondorian, but stripped of their armour and livery."
"What about the rest of the men?' asked Paris. Aragorn shook his head.
"Like the raiders, they've simply disappeared. No one knows what happened."
"We've managed to keep it a secret so far," said Faramir "but I don't know how much longer we can keep the truth from the people. This is the last thing Gondor needs, especially so soon after the War of the Ring. I fear that another war is at hand, and Gondor has yet to recover her full strength. And those pirates are proving to be much more of a problem than we'd initially thought."
"If I may have a word, your nibs," cut in Jack. "Who knows how to fight pirates better than other pirates?"
A/N: Not much action in this chapter. At least one party's back in Middle Earth. I'll have to think up ways to get the other party in somehow. The team's not complete without the sometimes-too-honourable Balian ;) Reviews please? By the way, I miscalculated again. Next chapter, I think, will be back to normal length.