Author: Mirrordance

Title: Love, War

Summary: The War brought them together, but the peace will tear them apart. How much is a man willing to pay to keep a friendship, and how much is a friend willing to lose for revenge? Slash.

TIMELINE: the story happens about a year or two after Return of the King— the exact year is immaterial really, just as long as certain future events operate as a given: one, peace is yet to be attained with the Eastern tribes of Middle-Earth. Two, Ithilien is already restored and Legolas lords over the elven colony there, just as Gimli is lord of the Glittering Caves. Three, Eomer is already engaged, as is Eowyn and Faramir. Four, that Elrond and Galadriel have already sailed away to Valinor. The fic is generally faithful to the book and the movie with respect to the major events, although some factors about it may be considered as an AU; the irrepressible Haldir, for instance, is very much alive in this piece.

ORIGINAL CHARACTER GUIDE:

The Sang-age Tribe: a tribe name created from Latin roots which means 'belong to blood.' They a creation of the author and is supposed to be one of the multitude of Easterling tribes, not particularly powerful but also influential. excuse any possible inconsistencies haha.

King Nathaniel: the King of the Sang-age tribe.

Prince Nicolo: Heir of Nathaniel, a renown and vicious warrior.

Danielli: the king of another Easterling tribe, and a dear friend and ally to Nicolo.

Princess Nadina: Nathaniel's daughter, Nicolo's sister, and Danielli's wife.

Lilian: Legolas' murdered betrothed. An elf from Lothlorien.

Mikael: Legolas' personal guard.

Adriano: Nicolo's impulsive young aide and valet.

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PART ONE: Those Lost

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Chapter Four: To the Victor Go the Spoils

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The Rohan Front

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Nathaniel was naturally treated as an honored guest, rather than a prisoner. After the acceptance of the surrender, the Eastern and Western lines were arranged into a wary but well-held armistice in the grounds outside.

When all seemed to settle down at last, Nathaniel and Eomer sat across from each other over negotiations and a meal inside the King of Rohan's tent. With them were Legolas, Mikael and Nathaniel's personal guard.

Nathaniel's eyes discreetly strayed to a corner of the tent, where his sword rested atop a pile of silks.

"You will get it back," Eomer said suddenly, ever-perceptive.

"Gracious of you," Nathaniel murmured, watching the gruff King of Rohan as he finished off the last of his meal. Eomer was much younger than he, but held his stalwart warrior's respect. The young King of Rohan was a worthy foe. But now that peace was at hand… they weren't quite sure of what to do with each other, always more of warriors than diplomats, having lived in a time of war.

"A fine weapon," Eomer commented.

Safe topic, Legolas thought wryly, not quite sure of what he wanted, or what he expected.

"The artwork is intricate but mostly unnecessary," Eomer continued, "However I must also say that it hampers the hold very little. Respect to your smiths."

"They've carried the secrets of their trade for as long as any of our people can recall," Nathaniel said, just as relieved to fall into these words that were not so complicated. "Perhaps… perhaps in better times… a gift from my House to yours. We shall see. Have you a passion for such things?"

"Ours too is a kingdom of warriors," Eomer said, "I find it hard to rely upon things that I do not admire. A sword saves your life and that of those you love. It commands care, and respect, and the best kinds deserve adoration too."

Nathaniel favored him with a sidelong glance. "That piece in particular carries a grand history with it. My sword… it's carried my people through countless battles. It was my father's when he was king. And his father's too, and so on. What history does your weapon carry?"

"My own," Eomer said proudly, and though Nathaniel did not quite know the story behind that, the light in the young King's eyes was enough to tell him that there was more than reason enough to feel so fierce a pride for such a thing. The man before him was indeed great by his past deeds, and guaranteed a life ahead that minstrels would one day sing praises to.

From the folds of his robes, Nathaniel drew out the cloak and sword of his slain ally Danielli. With some reserve, he drew out those that his dead son owned as well. He respectfully offered them to Eomer.

"To the victor go the spoils," Nathaniel said, "This is tradition too. You've slain Danielli and Nicolo. Things that were theirs are now yours."

"Legolas is your victor," Eomer said to the King of the Sang-age, motioning for the quiet elf.

"In both cases?" Nathaniel asked the elven prince.

"Yes," Legolas replied after a moment of thought.

Nathaniel's eyes lit up. "Ah, Legolas of Mirkwood. Yes. I wondered when Danielli and Nicolo would meet their match." He offered the swords to Legolas, who stared at them for a moment, before accepting them with his pale, graceful hands closing around the scarlet fabric wound about the weapons.

"I hope you are not yet wed," Nathaniel added, "For I know some countries do not encourage men to have more than one wife."

Legolas' head shot up as he blinked at the Easterling in genuine confusion, not to mention mounting dread.

"Danielli had a sizeable estate in the East," Nathaniel informed him, "A minor kingdom. And he is survived by his wife, who is my most beautiful daughter, and their son. Nicolo himself was never married, but he does own land as well. All these are now yours to take.

"According to tradition," said Nathaniel, "You may kill Danielli's son if you desire, for he was the slain man's heir and therefore could one day amass forces to depose you and avenge his father. Naturally you are not expected to raise him according to the royal life he was born to, unless you choose to. You may dispose of him as you will."

"I do not want any of these," Legolas said flatly, and Eomer was staring at him, knowing from the stricken look on the elf's face that it was a rather vast and monumental understatement.

"But you must take them," Nathaniel insisted, "By these traditions is order in our country upheld. For such structures to crumble would be disastrous, for it could set a precedent that could permanently damage our way of life. If you do not take the properties of Danielli and Nathaniel, you could spark civil unrest if various families fight and war to stake their claim in these unmarked territories. And we are speaking of the best territories in the land, for they were our best warriors.

"And besides," Nathaniel continued, "if a peace treaty, or an alliance is to be set into motion, it also requires the bind of marriage. All my daughters are wed, yes, but now Nadina is widowed and yours to take. Though I am saddened by Danielli's death, it has purchased for us an opportunity wherein the pieces fit."

"This is preposterous," Legolas seethed.

"We've long lived thus," Nathaniel said tersely, "It is not your place to declare our ways as ridiculous."

Legolas stared at him for a long moment. Nicolo's sister, his mind raced, my wife… he could not quite put the two things together. It was like defiling the grave of Lilian…

Surprising all who were there, the elf chuckled mirthlessly. He reached for his chalice and took a disarming gulp of deep red wine.

Eomer's going to kill me, he decided, even as he opened his mouth to speak.

"You may find it in good taste, sir," said Legolas stonily, "To give to your son's murderer you daughter in marriage. But then again, that is what makes you a barbarian and I… something else."
A deadly silence filled the room. They could hear the sounds of clanking armor outside, soldiers talking, fires cackling, quiet horse hooves. Eomer clung to these remnants of the outside word like a man on a log in the middle of the sea. He wound his consciousness and all of his attention about these reminders of a life that lay beyond the pall of the room he was very miserably in.

"You may retire to your quarters for the night, my lord," Eomer said to Nathaniel, his voice edgy with anger that was most certainly not directed at the King of the Sang-age tribe. "You are free to move about the camp as you desire, but of course with due caution. We shall continue the negotiations upon the arrival of Elessar. I will send a rider for him at first light."

Nathaniel's jaws were set, but he nodded quickly and excused himself. Eomer waited a lengthy silence after the departure of the Sang-age group before he turned to Legolas incredulously.

"Are you addled?" were the first things that erupted from Eomer's mouth.

A just question my liege, the memory sprung from Legiolas' mind easily, remembering that first forage into the Golden Hall and the last time he tried to defy a King of Rohan.

I'm not sure, Legolas decided. He's crossed Eomer's King's eyes but once before. It was a steady, angry gaze that was noble to the core of his bones, even as he was just a soldier then. Allies during the rest of the war, Eomer's angry gaze was one he did not think he had to face ever again.

Legolas turned to Mikael, and murmured to him in their native tongue. 'You are excused. Set Adriano free and leave him to his master.'

'Are you addled?' Mikael asked as well, but left and did as he was told when Legolas looked at him sardonically and refused to reply.

"I merely expressed an honest opinion," Legolas said to Eomer.

"I know," Eomer retorted, "That's the problem."

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Legolas reckoned that Eomer knew far less about what to do with him than the King of Rohan did about what to do with Nathaniel.

"The peace is at hand," Eomer said, "Why must you try to make an already tenuous situation more difficult?"

Legolas made a mockery of genuinely pondering the question. "I'm not certain."

"That's not good enough," Eomer snapped.

"Do not use that tone with me," Legolas said evenly, trying to reign in his own royal temper, "I am not some mindless minion of yours."

"No, you are simply being mindless," Eomer retorted, "I am not speaking to you as a King to a subordinate. I am speaking to you as a man who speaks to one who has erred in a most miserable and unquestionable manner! Not to mention petty. Do you know what is at stake here? How many we have lost in the battles with the Easterlings? How many we can save through a treaty?"

"I cannot forget their errs as easily as you apparently can," Legolas retorted.

"I do not forget," said Eomer, "I am simply being practical. We can end bloodshed, Legolas. While I share your thirst for justice, and your disdain for their past acts, wars must end. If I can give my people peace and safety by giving them their peace and safety, so be it. It is the way of things, much as we may desire otherwise."
Legolas stared at the King of Rohan. He cannot argue with practicality; that was cold, brutal fact, and there never was anything very practical about revenge.

To be continued…