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? WARNING: 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 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. Oh and I also can't name elves in elvish to save my life so excuse me, haha.
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.
Nathaniel: the King of the Sang-age tribe.
Nicolo: Heir of Nathaniel, a renown and vicious warrior.
Danielli: the king of another Easterling tribe, and a dear friend and ally to Nicolo.
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 Five: No Honor of Mine
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The Rohan Front
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Even before Legolas stepped inside his tent to retire for the evening, he knew there was someone within awaiting him. Carefully, he closed the flap of the tent behind him as he spoke into the dimness of the glaringly un-empty room.
"This is the quarters of the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, my lord," said Legolas, "I'm afraid you've strayed."
The intruder seemed to pause, and ponder this for a moment before he revealed himself indeed as who Legolas thought he was: Nathaniel.
"My son is truly dead?" he asked.
"Yes," Legolas replied.
"With honor, in a battle?" Nathaniel inquired.
"You can say so," Legolas managed after a thoughtful pause.
From deeper into the tent, Nathaniel lit an oil lamp and the two foes faced each other beneath its quiet yellow light.
"Is this all you came here to do?" Legolas asked coolly, as he removed his cloak and settled it upon the back of a chair, "To ask me useless questions?"
"No," Nathaniel admitted.
"I am not surprised," Legolas said as he watched Nathaniel with some interest, just before revealing the sword of the slain Sang-age prince from the folds of his robes. Nathaniel stared at the intricate weapon—his dead heir's weaponin Legolas' hands hungrily.
"I am tempted to use this on you," Legolas admitted, studying the blade with some interest, "There's almost something deliciously forbidden and irreverent about doing such a thing. A son's sword into his father's breast." But contrary to what he seemed to be saying, he tossed the sword to the King, who caught it cleanly.
"Your son's sword," Legolas said with a frown, so coolly, so frigidly, that it made the hair at the back of the King's neck stand on end, "is the very bane of my existence. I do not want it, just as I want nothing of his. Or that fiend Danielli's. I want absolutely nothing of the Easterlings. I do not use this blade upon you out of respect. I simply do not want it."
"I on the other hand," said Nathaniel gravely as he removed the sword from it's sheathe, "will indeed be using this on you."
"Whatever happened to that adage of yours?" Legolas asked him sardonically, "Tradition? Order? We're about to have an alliance, you and I. All that was your son's and all that was your ally's is mine now. Their lands and properties. Not to mention your daughter, your grandson. They are mine."
"Ah," Nathaniel said as he stepped forward with his weapon raised, "That's why I am here. If I killed you, all that is yours will be mine, eh?"
He swung at Legolas, who twisted on his heels in avoidance as he drew his pair of white swords and in turn swung upon Nathaniel's back. The man turned just in time to catch the blades with his sword in an almost-soundless clink!
Their assaults were quiet—they had to be, in this secret fight. The effect was a sound that was more akin to tinkering glasses or breaking ice than clashing swords.
They pushed away from each other.
"That's a rather convenient law," Legolas said wryly, as they walked around each other in the narrow space. Legolas randomly kicked silks and pillows out of his way.
"I heard it said you were a good warrior," Nathaniel scoffed, "With respect, and conviction. I have spoken with Adriano. He told me of your duel with my son, after he willingly surrendered. He also told me of what you've done to Danielli. I am therefore inclined to believe that you are not a good warrior at all. It is no honor of mine to cross blades with a foe like you."
"Nevertheless, here we are," Legolas commented calmly, although his heart was pricked. When did his actions become a subject of judgment? He was the one punishing them. It was they who wronged him. What angered him the most was that for some ridiculous reason, the man's opinion actually mattered to him.
"I did say I wanted the battle to end definitively, did I not?" Legolas asked, "I was envisioning the demise of your troublesome kind."
Nathaniel swung at the elf and Legolas ducked and retaliated, the edges of his knives catching the fabric of the Easterling's tunic as he jumped away.
Legolas did not wait for Nathaniel to recover from the attack, pulling his arm back and then pushing it forward, his sword seemingly a part of his body, an extension of his hand. Nathaniel deflected the precise aim with a jerk of his own sword, but was otherwise unable to stop the force that was so lethally strong that his weapon clattered to the ground with the momentum of the warrior elf's attack.
Hurriedly, Nathaniel stooped for the daggers strapped to his boots. His mind was racing as he struggled for control. A seasoned warrior he was, yes, but he was hardly as young and sprightly as he used to be. Danielli and Nicolo were much better fighters than himself, and they were slain by this elf. He likely did not stand a chance here, but he was never one to admit defeat. Besides, the elf seemed to be taking no prisoners, and he was therefore left with little or no choice at all but to keep fighting.
The dagger on his right boot freed first, and Legolas was not going to give him time to free the other. Nathaniel tossed the freed dagger toward the elf's head, and the warrior gracefully and simply just leaned away. Though the elf was quick to avoid that brand of a rather gruesome death, Nathaniel used the time wisely and freed his other dagger.
"One more weapon you've lost," Legolas told him mildly, practically daring Nathaniel to attack him when he made a show of looking away from the Easterling and out toward the ripped tent, where the first tossed dagger made its exit. "I hope you did not accidentally hit anyone outside."
Nathaniel ignored him, instead raising the new dagger up in a defensive stance, while his other hand motioned for Legolas to come forward. It might have been a dare, a challenge. But as the elf loomed closer, Nathaniel realized it was also most likely a death-wish under the guise of a final gust of bravado.
"They would have noticed that," Legolas said with a wince, knowing that if he wanted to finish off Nicolo's father, he had to do so quickly, before anyone came inside to disrupt their duel.
"Eomer will not be overly pleased with me," Legolas said wistfully, "but I suppose I could always say you invaded my quarters and tried to attack me." He blinked. "Which is also incidentally the truth. Mostly."
Nathaniel watched him approach, noting the rather keenly glinting spite in the elf's already icy eyes. Eyes that held no fear, no reservation, no disguise… of a feeling that was so strong it stifled the room.
"Why do you hate us so?" Nathaniel asked him.
"I hate the very ground your son walked upon," Legolas answered him coolly, pausing for awhile and looking at the Sang-age King with some dismay. "Far more those who sired him and set him upon this Earth. Far more those who loved him. Far more those who share his blood."
They looked at each other squarely. Legolas' mind raced.
Kill him now.
And yet his feet were frozen. Suddenly the Easterling looked old, almost harmless. Yes, there was angry, defiant fear in the aging warrior's eyes, but that dagger looked altogether too small, especially against Legolas' own pair of long white knives. The Easterling king was staring death in the eye, and he, immortal, was yet to break a sweat.
He does not deserve your pity.
He deserves your justice and your cold, cold heart.
Legolas surged forward with an angry cry— he was just so helplessly and blindly angry at his foe, angry at himself, angry at the blasted fates that conspired for him to want things that were so hideously forbidden but also somehow right and painfully persistent, angry at opportunities that presented themselves for him to act upon these desires—
He blinked at the sharp sound of a clang and at the sudden realization that his weapon did not connect with flesh and blood. Breathlessly, he raised his eyes from the point of the crossed blades and met the turbulent gaze of an old friend.
"Move out of the way, Eomer," he said to the determined new arrival, knowing that for the second time that night, he would be going up against the iron will of the King of Rohan.
Long night…
"Legolas—" Eomer said haltingly, rather unsure of what to say, especially when the elf pressed down upon his blades and forced their knives to disengage.
"Out of the way!" Legolas commanded, sidestepping Eomer and moving in for the kill. The stunned Easterling looked almost as distraught as the King of Rohan, who swiftly moved back in place to defend Nathaniel.
"Cease this, Legolas, please," Eomer grunted at the strain, the force of Legolas' attack pressing down against his sword. He pushed his elven ally away, and Legolas jumped back, glaring at him hotly.
"In case you missed it," the elf snapped, "He came into my quarters searching precisely for this. I do not intend to disappoint. What he began, he shall finish."
"We need him," Eomer said, "I know not what this is about to you and I will not pretend to know. What I am certain of is that a peace treaty with the King of an Eastern tribe, particularly one as widely connected as the Sang-age can set forth a precedent for other tribes to follow. This is the first step to a lasting peace. You know it."
"You strike a bargain with the devil," Legolas seethed, walking around Eomer, "My friend," he said gravely, the endearment sounding more of a warning of what would be forsaken for his desires, rather than a pleasantry, "I would appreciate it if you stepped out of my way."
"Stand down, Legolas," Eomer said edgily, raising his sword up in defense. From behind him, he could hear Nathaniel scurrying to recover his fallen blade. "Stay still, Nathaniel," Eomer muttered, knowing that the sudden movements of the Easterling was making the elf-warrior's eyes dart left and right in preparation for an assault. Eomer knew what that meant…
In a flurry of movement, the elf sheathed his pair of white knives behind him and was quickly armed and aiming with his bow toward Nathaniel at the return. The shaft was released, and Eomer deflected it with a wave of his sword. The arrow clattered to the ground uselessly.
"Cease this madness," Eomer warned the elf, his tone regal and commanding, even as the depths of his eyes burned into those of his ally's, searchingly.
Easier said than done, Legolas thought darkly.
Legolas breathed, and abandoned his bow and arrow, letting them fall to the ground.
"Thank the gods…" the familiar voice of Eomer's personal guard cut through the palpable silence of the tent and for the first time, Legolas noticed he was there, beside a pensive Mikael. The soldier's voice hovered over the room and then drifted, when he realized that he was the only one voicing what was soon turning out to be extremely premature relief.
Slowly, Legolas raised his arms toward the white knives he previously sheathed.
Nathaniel made a step forward, attempting to pass his defender Eomer, embarrassed that someone was fighting in his stead. But Mikael moved toward him and pressed an insistent hand upon his shoulder.
"No man shall fight a battle that is mine," Nathaniel said.
"It is no battle," Mikael said tersely, his eyes drifting to the two former allies who were facing each other stonily, "They are just going to… talk."
Let the Legolas release his steam, Mikael thought as he watched, He will not harm Eomer, but he sorely needs this…
"Come," Mikael said coolly to the confused pair of Nathaniel and Eomer's aisde, "Let us have tea."
Nathaniel hesitated, but Mikael's grip on his shoulder tightened. He will not be defied. Grudgingly, Nathaniel let himself be led away, out the tent.
Legolas watched them leave, his blue eyes wide as it dawned on him that the control of the situation was being wrested from him, his quarry escaping. He stepped in the direction of the tent's flaps to follow, but Eomer matched his move easily and blocked his way.
"Do you think I will stay my hand for you?" Legolas snapped at him, obviously and understandably frustrated.
"Yes," Eomer said boldly, much to the elf's vexation.
To be continued…
Some Thanks…
Shout out to all who read and especially all who reviewed! This isn't my most popular fic, but I really felt, creatively, that I had to stretch out of my comfort zone and try this out so MASSIVE MASSIVE thanks for your support and your attention :) This fic likely would have died without your readership :) Thank you especially also to those readers who trust me enough to take the experimental leap with me :)
Some responses…
To Zerah: the pairing is actually a very standard one, which will make itself known in the latter parts of the story. It's A/L. But you're right, I love writing Eomer and Legolas together :)
To Rougish Smile: sorry, I don't know Laurel Hamilton. Wow, of all the names put together we thought of the same? I guess I just thought 'whatever sounds nice' haha.
Oh and Chapter Six, "Love More than Hate" will be posted soon, and will be featuring the rest of the duel. In terms of the work, though, I'm already writing Chapter Ten. I pace my posts so you guys wouldn't have to wait an eternity for a post I've yet to write, so I like pacing them. Anyway, there. And if you guys liked my previous fic "For Every Evil," I've also been dabbling with writing it :) So, there. Keep the reviews coming if you can and 'til the next post!