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.
PART ONE: Those Lost
Chapter Six: Love More Than Hate
The Rohan Front
"I've been…" Eomer began haltingly as he and Legolas warily walked around each other, "I've been confused by you since your return… I stepped in here and realized you've become someone I do not quite… recognize."
"Or perhaps," Legolas retorted irritably, "One you never truly knew."
The heated vibe struck a chord in Eomer, whose always felt a rather deep comradeship with the elf.
"Do you truly believe that?" Eomer asked him quietly.
The frustrated elf decided not to reply. Uncertain what else to do, he lunged at Eomer in a frontal attack that served only to distract; turning just-so, he swung his blade instead toward the King of Rohan's side.
But they've not fought together a multitude of times before without the human King knowing a thing or two about the elf's skills and tactics. He deflected the attack cleanly, and swung his own sword toward the elf's body.
Legolas caught the strike with his knife, and for a long moment they pressed against each other stubbornly.
"Lay it down, Legolas," Eomer muttered.
"Move out of the way, Eomer," Legolas retorted.
They pushed away from each other.
"You are knowingly threatening this peace for which we've labored so long," Eomer told him plaintively.
"There are many forms of peace," Legolas said coolly, "I work for one that does not involve an agreement with a group of heartless barbarians."
"For all your disdain of them," Eomer pointed out, "You are certainly acting like one."
A burst of anger spurted from the elf's eyes at the comparison. With a cry of anger, he swung at Eomer again. The knife on his left hand arced wide, just as he pressed the knife on his right hand forward.
Eomer used his sword to defend himself from the first move, and then jumped away to avoid the second. He barely allowed himself a breath before he ducked low and swung his sword against Legolas' legs. The edge of the blade caught the cloth of the elf's clothes, brushing the skin beneath such that a line of blood stained the torn cloth. It was more of a warning, or perhaps a dare, rather than a serious strike.
First blood, Eomer noted, somehow undeniably… proud of such an achievement. The elf was always a riveting fighter to behold. To watch him cross blades with a foe was both a daunting horror and a persistent privilege (i.e., first, in because it was a stunningly beautiful dance and secondly, because they were fortunately on the same side). He never thought he would actually one day fight the elf.
Breathing heavily more out of spite than exhaustion, Legolas beheld Eomer with a hateful glare.
"What is this about, my friend?" Eomer asked him, gentleness and worry seeking to escape his defenses. He was confused at the elf's actions and perhaps angrier than he cared to admit over the brashness of Legolas. "When did our eyes look toward different horizons?"
When did the things we want diverge?
Why do you suddenly raise your sword against me?
Why do you make me choose between you and my duties?
"My eyes have always looked toward the destruction of our foes," Legolas retorted, "It is you who seek to suddenly lay down our arms and… and consort with our enemies."
"The world must one day cease from destroying itself from within," Eomer said evenly, "Wars must end. I can no longer fight a face that is remarkably similar to mine."
"They've fought and slain your kin for years and years," Legolas pointed out.
"And we have fought and slain theirs," said Eomer, "Past is past, Legolas. I look to the future. Restless ghosts will one day tire and sleep. It is my people and one day my children, whom I wish to spare from joining them. Can we all not simply seek to enjoy a life that is short enough without wars and killing?"
"Then you abandon my cause," said Legolas, "My life is not so short. My anger is not so easily dismissed and my loss not as easily forgotten. What was stolen from me I cannot reclaim… I can only calm with their understanding of what they cost me. They will pay threefold."
"What was stolen, Legolas?" Eomer asked him achingly, "Perhaps I will understand. Perhaps I can help."
"I do not wish to waste my time," Legolas barked, "For you will only deem it trivial and insane and even if you thought otherwise I know for a certainty that none of it will ultimately change your mind. And so. Once again, I will ask you to step down."
"No," Eomer said with finality.
"Very well," Legolas tensed, preparing for another attack. In a flash of movement, he kicked at the silks that littered the indulgent space, the shimmering fabric creating waves between the two warriors as it moved with the force and for a moment seemed to repel the call of the fall to the ground.
Eomer's sword tore through the fabric, only to touch bare air; the elf shifted and moved, appearing behind the King of Rohan. Instinctively, Eomer deigned from whirling around and instead, simply fell prostate to the ground. Legolas' knives sang over his head and managed to crop at some of his hair. Just as inventively, Eomer pulled the silks from beneath Legolas' feet, and the elf fell to the ground beside him with a remarkably un-elven thud.
Unglamorous, Legolas thought with some annoyance, but effective.
Rolling over the elf's body, Eomer straddled him and pressed his sword upon the angry elf's neck. Legolas' eyes defiantly met his, and Eomer knew that his grip will not hold for very long if his friend seriously resisted.
They stared at each other for a long, quiet moment, and Eomer knew for a certainty that Legolas was deeply contemplating how much further he was going to take this.
"I want Nicolo's father killed," Legolas said stonily, even as he let his body fall limp as he quit from resisting. "I want his entire family killed."
"I cannot let that happen," Eomer replied, "An alliance with Nathaniel can further our cause."
"Your cause," Legolas clarified, "Not mine."
"What was stolen, Legolas?" Eomer asked him softly.
The elf evaded his question as much as he averted his gaze. "How did we become all the things we despised, Eomer?" he asked quietly, "You and Estel… marauding around with your great army, ironically looking for peace. And me… me I do not even have a word for."
"Don't include me in your misery and confusion," Eomer chided him gently, "I'm quite certain of all the things I'm doing."
"Well," Legolas breathed, looking back the King of Rohan, "You won, it seems."
"You let me," Eomer pointed out.
"You were willing to kill me for this," said Legolas, "I was not willing to kill you. Either you are right and I am wrong, or you just want it more."
"I wasn't going to kill you," Eomer chuckled, "I was just going to hurt you a little."
Legolas closed his eyes for a moment, trying to catch a breath that was suddenly too short, his mind trying to catch up to the events of the evening. Eomer shifted away from him and rose to his feet.
"Well," Legolas grunted as Eomer offered him a hand up to rise, "I am relieved to find I can still love more than I can hate."
Eomer looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, before attempting a rueful smile, "I believe it is now safe to breathe. What was the cause of this ruckus?"
"Nathaniel disapproved of me as a perspective son-in-law," Legolas said wryly, "Among other things… the insult tonight, for one. And…" he hesitated, "He discovered the exact circumstances of the deaths of Danielli and Nicolo."
Braving Eomer's wrath and his judgment, Legolas quickly apprised him of how he denied the two Easterling warriors of their surrender when he killed them.
"They all but surrendered," Legolas said with a wince, turning away from the King of Rohan, "And I deprived them of it." He glanced at the weapons and silks littering the floor of his tent, desired to diffuse the situation somewhat as he commented, "What a mess."
"Why?" Eomer asked him simply.
The elf deigned to reply, refused to even look at the King, not wanting to be unmasked any further.
"Elf," Eomer grumbled, "Make up for it at least. Wed the girl, seal this treaty."
"I cannot," Legolas told him simply, collecting his weapons, "I cannot."
To be continued…
Hey guys! Thanks to all who read and especially all who reviewed. You should know that these fics are powered by your support so MASSIVE MASSIVE thanks and until the next post! Oh, chapter seven has Haldir in it so look out for that:)