Part 8

It was a connection that began before time as she knew it had begun. Doubtless the almost tangible force that pulsed between them when they first glimpsed the other from afar was older than the sun. And so it was no great mystery that despite her primary instinct to ask him to leave, her true will prevailed and she held out what he had asked from her.

Lex Luthor had been halfway to the parking lot when he felt the undeniable need to turn around. He walked back, up the small hill that overlooked Gabe's resting place. He stood there, under the trees and watched her.

Chloe Sullivan had been looking at the dark earth that covered her father's grave when she looked up. From his vantage point, Lex saw a tall man, creature really, because he was too much of everything to be an ordinary man. There had been a glow that called the eyes to him. The... creature... walked towards Chloe and then to him, before setting his attention on the woman in front of him.

Chloe held out the dull pendants that Gabe had left for Chloe in his keeping. At once, Lex reacted. He jerked and cried for Chloe to snatch the jewels away. Horrified, Lex watched as the slender, flawless hand touched the gems. He rushed forward, only to be blinded by the most brilliant light he had seen.

He forged onward, possessed by the knowledge that this new arrival could not possess the gems. He had not made it several feet down the hill when the light became a veritable physical force that threw him away, off his feet, flying backwards.

"The mercenaries, you fools! You woke the mercenaries and set them on Smallville!" Lex yelled, in a voice much deeper, much stronger, much more forceful than he knew his voice to be.

~~

His lightness allowed the steed to be swift. He saw the group of Gondor's men gathered, standing vanguard, on the cliff where he had first felt Chiara's presence. It seemed so long ago that he had rode towards Gondor, ignorant to the one certainty that the Valar knew. His fate and heart, unbound for the more than two thousand years of his life, lay in the hands of a young woman whose only desire was to fly free of the boundaries set by people who loved her. He set his heart against the mercenaries laying in wait below. His fight with them was his fight to rip the borders that fenced Chiara, in order to ground himself, chain his heart willingly and promise his wandering eyes on only one sun.

The captain of Gondor raised his hand in acknowledgment of the presence of the illustrious Elf. "Maethor Legolas," the captain called out, for all soldiers knew the Elven warrior.

"Tell me, Gwador, where I can be of help," Legolas responded.

"We need scouts for the western slope," the captain said. "I shall gather a few men to go with you."

"Send them after me. I shall go apace."

The weakness of a warrior that Legolas had scoffed at before was the division of his focus. It caused Aragorn's fall in Rohan before, where he had been struck by Eowyn's profession and Arwen's whispers in his dreams. To Legolas, such was foolishness. Once a warrior enters a battle or a hostile area, he was empty save from gell, the spirit of triumph.

It was triumph that would lead him back to her waiting arms, to vanish once again as an individual and resurface as part of a whole. He could still see her face, haloed by her golden hair, brilliant with the light of the Silmarils in her eyes.

He came back to full alertness to see himself surrounded by Easterlings, mercenaries of the east. He cursed his wayward thoughts and sat up straighter on his horse. The mercenaries all trained the sharp tips of their swords towards him, and should he move left or right, he knew that the horse's flesh would be shredded on the unmerciful weapons. The horse would throw him into the very center of the enemy camp.

From a distance he heard the powerful neigh of the horse, and one by one, from the backs of the lines the mercenaries fell. Legolas took the chance to jump down from his steed. Swifter than the blink of an eye, Legolas drew his bow and arrows on the men, felling one after the other until there were so few that he allowed them to run.

Legolas was left in the clearing with the man who saved his life. Too cautious and too incensed at his carelessness, he did not put down the bow and arrow. The man who saved him pulled away his helmet that Legolas recognized as Rohan. He would have known this man anywhere, if only by stories of the prince of Rohan who before any battle sheared off his hair.

"I am Elboron, man of Rohan." Elboron sheathed his sword and strode forward. "Legolas of Mirkwood, it has been my pleasure to fight with you."

Legolas rebelled at the presence of the Rohan prince, for he knew why Elboron was in those parts. Yet the man saved his life, even if Legolas could have well taken down all the mercenaries. He grasped the man's arm in gratitude.

"Once you saved my land, Elf. I save now your life in repayment."

''Then you have done your part.''

"No." Elboron gave him a grim smile. "I shall forever be in your debt. As Lord of Rohan, I vow to aid you, hope only to save your life in times the number of the thousands of my people whose lives were spared through your prowess and stealth. The sword of Elboron, son of Faramir, is sworn to you. Command me as you will."

And Legolas knew the power of such gratitude in an honorable man. Heavily his unlearned side was tempted to have the prince slit his own throat and mix his blood with the mercenaries'. His faith in his love was strong, he told himself. Instead of what he desired to say, Legolas spoke, "You are young. I dare not command you for fear that I betray my honor."

"Then I will go to the King of Gondor. By your leave." Legolas nodded. "If you perchance have need of help, you know that my sword is yours."

Elboron left, and there was a great shout heard from below. He quickly drew his sword and turned back. He was about to run back into the fray. Legolas stood with his bow to the stampeding mercenaries. When Elboron ran, Rohan men arrived and surrounded him, his shield and protection.

"The Elf!" he shouted to his men. "Save the Elf," was his command, for he had been trained by his mother and father to look up to the First-born who had a hand in freeing his people.

"Prince Elboron, you must take cover," yelled the captain of Rohan. "Please."

Elboron shrugged Faramir's men violently away. He shoved his way out until he burst from the line. "I am a fighter in my own right," he bit out. He ran towards where he had last seen the Elf, to find that the space had cleared of anyone standing. "We will charge the camp in an hour. Prepare yourselves!"

The captain grabbed Elboron's arm. "Prince, you know that this is foolishness."

"We must save the Elf."

"Let us proceed to Gondor where we were heading before. You must take your betrothed to wife. It is the most logical move, so we may raise more arms against these trespassers. You know the King of Gondor will fight for his brother."

Elboron trusted the captain that his father had elected. He wanted to charge then and retrieve the Elf, yet he knew that the captain was right. He had too much passion to make war. He was known across the land as the blood fighter, for her saw nothing when he charged, and fought by instinct, not calculation. It was something he would force himself to learn. Finally, he agreed.

When he took the reigns of a horse that was handed to him, Elboron looked down and saw a glint of silver on the ground. He frowned and picked up a silver falcon hanging from a chain.

~~

Lex lay on the moist grass, facedown. Gasping hard, trying to catch his breath, he turned his head and opened his eyes. All he could see was the blinding white. His ear was pressed on the ground, and he could hear every thud of every foot, every squeal of every wheel, every throb of the earth.

Ultimately, the sounds that were natural to his world erupted into nothingness, and Lex heard a far more terrible series of grunts and roars, or large feet thumping on the ground as they crushed all that lay underneath.

Out there, beyond the blindness that he was given, he knew that two souls merged in the most intricate way, without words or movement. Together joined by two dulled gems that were now the brightest on earth, jewels that he unknowingly gave to Chloe. Now he regretted the move, for all the reasons the jewels were entrusted to him flooded back.

Too late. Lex stared unseeing at the never ending emptiness.

The mercenaries had come.

~~

Her tears were silent and steady as she watched the prince of Rohan give her necklace to Aragorn. From the top of the steps she could not hear the words exchanged between the men, and even if she were near, Chloe knew she would not have heard them for the roaring in her ears.

Stricken, she ran to the top of the castle and faced the direction that she knew the cliff was located. Fervently, she prayed for the Valar to grant her grace. Chiara called to the Maiar, back to the first Maiar who dared love Eru's child, to bless her when she was an adaneth who gave her heart to an Elf.

Chiara felt the brush of warm hands as they clasped the necklace around her neck. Her tears fell at the familiar heaviness on her breast. "He is not perished," she insisted.

"My men and I shall take him home," Aragorn promised. "But you know in your heart what clemency lies in the hands of these mercenaries."

She noted the blood redness of the rising sun. "Blood will be spilled," she said aloud. "If it has not been spilled."

For the first time in the years that she had been his daughter, Aragorn took her into his arms. "Chiara, do not stop your tears. Weep for him." He wiped away the moisture on her face. "I will not urge you tonight to forget what fancy you shared with Legolas. Face your lord and husband tomorrow then," he said. "Tonight, Gondor grieves."

Aragorn cleared his throat. He carefully moved away.

"It pains me so, my lord Aragorn," Chiara murmured, "that a warrior so great as Legolas should fall on a quest to prove his worth to a man who should be well aware of it."

The king stiffly walked away and entered the castle. When he knew that he was in an isolated place of his own home, Aragorn let out a cry. As graceful and silent as she always had been, he never heard his wife slip into the room. He looked up to see her looking at him sadly. Aragorn buried himself in her arms.

"Not to be hurt when the mortal dies, Arwen," Aragorn said. "It was a simple wish for a brother."

"You wanted to give him what you could not give me," Arwen said softly, running her fingers on his cheeks. "Yet you could not understand, Aragorn, that you want to give him safety that he did not want. Just as I do not want you to protect me from losing you. Loving and losing is part of who we are."

The king did not answer, for at that moment, though he was the most powerful man in Middle-earth, Aragorn was also the most vulnerable.