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.
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.
PART ONE: Those Lost
Chapter Eight: If You Ask
The Road to the Gondor Front
The sight of Minas Tirith always made his heart skip a beat a little. He saw with his elven eyes and their perpetually near-but-not-quite sight of the distant horizon, the White City as it rose atop hostile flatlands like a mighty overlord, daring the emptiness. It stretched out and up like a defiant fist, reaching for the stars.
The sight was unabashedly grand, unearthly. Legolas remembered the first time he saw the City. Come exhausted from battle, emerged the victor though mind embattled by some other new foe to fell, the City still commanded his attention and respect. Used as he was to beauty and grandeur, he still yielded with no struggle at all, let the beautiful City have its due.
Even in the smoky turbulence at the tail of a battle that was very nearly lost, even in the midst of ruin and carnage, Minas Tirith stood proud and bold, not unlike the King she claimed, the King she's long waited to welcome home.
Legolas, of course, remembered the King too, for how can one forget Elessar, whom he had known and loved in varying stages of his growing greatness. There was he much burdened by his inheritance; tarnished histories, fearful of his own blood. And then there too was the Ranger, the final incarnate of a host of names and identities before he settled with Elfstone at the last. Strider was weathered and callused, but calmer, more regal. And then there was Elessar. And then it was that Legolas knew the world gained a King but he lost… he lost, quite plainly.
He lost the world, for one, because for all his burden and toil he was set to leave it, for she was the noble inheritance of the edain, who at last found their leader and made themselves worthy of their bequest. And then he lost Estel too, one of the dearest of his friends for he belonged to the land, now, and to his own people, more than he belonged to anyone else.
It was long in coming, he reflected, and it was only what was just, what should happen. But he knew it best then, he supposed, that first walk into Minas Tirith, up toward the White Tower after the victory at Pelannor Fields. The work was keeping Elessar busy, everyone was asking the King questions. There was really no time for a slow, burning entrance into his kingdom, no time to gawk at the fate that brought him there after so long. Legolas watched his old friendElessar was he nowso occupied, so distant. They did not and could not even share in the marvel of the City. It seemed as if they shared in nothing.
It was not unexpected. What he did not know, especially as he slowed his pace and let himself be overtaken by the multitude of men who had urgent business with the King, was that it would be as poignantly painful as it was. He backed off, feeling like a nuisance, and a flood of men crowded the space he had occupied, as if he had never stood there.
At that moment, Legolas remembered a curious part of his youth, one he thought he'd forgotten. He was a sprightly soldier still learning the ways of the world. His contingent, on a message-bearing duty, came upon a tribe of men who occupied themselves with carving beautiful pieces of work on wood, and then burned them as an offering to their gods. And he remembered too, much earlier than that, the first arrow shaft he let fly was one that he had made with his own hands too.
I helped make you, he thought of Elessar, he thought of Middle-Earth, which were by now inextricably linked for their joint fates away from him, and their joint claims to his heart, and now you belong to someone else.
There was jealousy and there was pride and there was he, torn once again between two passions. Just as he was torn between Earth and Sea. Just as he was torn between staying and leaving, restlessness and complacency, resistance and surrender, love and hate, killing for the dead and dying for the living, loving Lilian and loving
He shook his head in dismay. It was not for him to think of anymore. They had agreed, they must not do or say anything they'd regret. So there was no conflict between Lilian and him, the latter would have come to nothing. Suffice to say, though, given the examples prior to Lilian that he seemed quite often torn.
No matter, he decided, he was never anyone's fool. He's always known, he's always known… It just hurt, but then he's always known that too…
I helped make you, he thought once again, and now you belong to someone else.
'We're a dying race, my friend,' Haldir had said to him, the firelight playing with the shadows of his face, 'Owners of as dying age. We've to learn to give them this Earth, but there is no generosity without love.'
I have loved, Legolas remembered, But I've hated too… What was he to do to reconcile them then?
"Past is past, Legolas," he remembered Eomer, now, "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?"
"Let me teach you one final thing, dear prince," Nicolo had said to him that night he was robbed of his life, "All that is truly grave and tragic begins not with death and killing, which is a given as long as there is life, especially in times of war. All that is truly grave and truly tragic begins with vengeance."
"It is no honor of mine to cross blades with a foe like you," Nathaniel, that night Legolas had tried to do the same to Nicolo's father.
"I've been confused by you since your return… I stepped in here and realized you've become someone I do not quite… recognize," and then Eomer, that same night, disappointed and angry and confused with him…
"When did our eyes look toward different horizons?"
The sight of Minas Tirith blurred before his eyes, and he realized tears have come unbidden to obscure his vision, just as he realized, now more than ever, that:
This world is no longer mine.
He's become her villain, her overstaying guest or worse yet, her destructive tenant. From being her celebrated champion, its folk now looked to him as a threat, a nuisance, a hindrance to their goals.
This world is no longer mine.
He turned East, not straight toward the city. Minas Tirith he saw from the distance but it was not to where he was headed. The King wouldn't be there. A battle was afoot, and Elessar was never one to sit on a throne behind the white walls of his mighty fortress and send other men out to their deaths. He wouldn't put any man through any challenge where he would not stand with them.
Which is just as well, Legolas thought, This treaty that we are making… my part in it… the life it saves could very well be that of yours, dear friend.
The Gondor Front
It was raining in the edge of the desert.
How unlikely was that, rain in a desert, and then that it should rain now that he was traveling? But then again now was not the time to dwell on the more trivial unfortunate events in his life. One more in a long list, and this one was comparatively not so bad.
The sentries at the flank of the camped Gondorian army recognized the elfin Prince easily and let him go wherever he pleased.
"Where is the King?" he asked of the men he passed. He knew already of course, that it could only be between the tactics tent or that of healing. Aragorn seldom used that scandalously lavish resting tent of his. They might as well just spare the horses the burden and bring the King a mat and a flask of water, and even these were necessities not often used by him.
"He is with his generals, my lord," replied a soldier.
"I'm afraid I must disrupt them," Legolas decided, knowing to barge in now in the thick of a discussion was to ruin its flow, for Aragorn always saw it fit to apprise him of the situation and consult with him, perhaps by force of habit. It stepped on some toes, ate up valuable time. Legolas was a soldier, and a very practical one. He knew these things very well, but he bore an urgent message that will have a huge bearing on their plans. He dismounted his horse and left the reins to Mikael. He stalked toward the tent purposefully, and the pair of sentries at the door let him in without any questions.
"My lord," Legolas said to announce himself formally.
Aragorn noticed the nuance, and immediately knew that the elf was here primarily for official business. It was not hard to note that that's been his only reason for a visit since… since… Elessar could not recall. He gave the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen a slight bow, although the Dwarf beside him was for more excitable and tore through the small group of tacticians and gripped Legolas' forearm in welcome.
"You've been hiding out too long, master elf," said Gimli, and managed to court a warm smile from the elf before he continued on with his urgent message.
"I bear news from the North," said Legolas, quickly, plainly. He was not unused to this messenger job. "King Danielli is dead, his army had surrendered. His general, Nicolo, is dead as well. They folded to the forces of Eryn Lasgalen. I bore this news to the front of Rohan who faced King Nathaniel of the Sang-age tribe. Nathaniel, having also been informed that his lines are thinning and there are no reinforcements forthcoming, surrendered and is in the hands of King Eomer. They wish to draft a treaty that can be a precedent for other Eastern tribes to see the value in an alliance with the West. King Eomer requests the immediate presence of Elessar toward the drafting of this peace treaty."
"My lord," said one of Elessar's generals, awed, "An alliance with Nathaniel… why, he's wed his harem of daughters to practically every scattered Easterling tribe there is. To ally with him is indeed to show these tribes that peace is the best way."
"This is good news," Elessar said, excitedly stalking toward Legolas and gripping his shoulder, "This is very good news, my friend. The victory of our elfin allies in the north under your command is commendable for granting us all these new options. I must go there at once."
"There is a storm coming," said Legolas, "It is in the air, and it is raining as it is. I suspect this can wait awhile. Look to the thinning lines of our foes… they will take any delay they can find, and we will find no rush from them."
Aragorn hesitated.
'You will not be any good to anyone if you get caught in a mire somewhere,' Legolas said to him in elvish, 'or if you catch your death of cold, old man.'
The King smirked. "I will wait a night," he decided.
The three hunters were once again united, perhaps for the first time since the Quest that had changed the face of the world. The task this evening was certainly not as monumental although, as in all aspects of his life, Elessar devoted himself to it completely.
Gimli and Legolas watched, amused, as the King scoured his lavish quarters for a towel. The elf was soaking wet from travel and the King was concerned, except his tent was so unused that he absolutely had no idea where anything was.
"Estel," said Legolas, a smile playing about his lips, "You need not bother. I am already drying. You are losing your race with time."
"I hate losing," Aragorn said, turning toward him with a mad grin and a youthful gleam in his wizened eyes as he triumphantly drew out a towel and tossed it to Legolas.
"That took awhile," Legolas said wryly, "I'd hate to ask for tea or for that matter, I'd hate to ask for anything else."
"You should've just let the elf rot," grumbled Gimli, looking for the plushiest seat in the room and finally settling down on Aragorn's throne. He patted the padded armrests in satisfaction.
"We don't rot," Legolas countered, slightly belatedly. He was slightly winded, slightly bewildered. The banter was… strange, suddenly, as if it was now lightness that denied itself in that it was something he had to consciously readjust to.
"Tea," Aragorn said suddenly, his eyes roving about the room in another search.
"Elessar need not wait on me hand and foot," Legolas told him evenly. "For that matter, you need not wait on anyone, my friend."
"But you are a rare visitor," Aragorn told him distractedly as he looked, before he caught the ironic gaze of the elf. "You've been making yourself much scarce, Legolas."
"I am the servant of two kingdoms, Estel," said the elf, explicitly referring to Eryn Lasgalen and Ithilien, though he actually meant three and secretly referred to Gondor for his attachment to its King, his good friend, "It should be of no surprise to you."
"Ah, yes, well," said Aragorn, giving up on the search and sticking his head out the opening of the tent and asking the sentries for a meal before turning back to his old friends, "Knowledge of this makes you no less missed. Arwen and my brothers inquire of you often, as do our friends in Rohan, and even Faramir and Eowyn who are theoretically your neighbors don't know where you are most of the time," Aragorn smirked, "Even the dwarf's missed you."
"Of course he has," Legolas said lightly.
"Of course I have," muttered the dwarf, deciding the winded elf was not making for such a sporting antagonist this evening and he might as well admit to the fact and perhaps they'd see each other more often. The elfin prince glanced at him sidelong and narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
"I suppose you are riding with me back to the lines of Rohan," said Aragorn, "this storm then is a good respite. I'm sure you've been traveling for endless days and nights."
"It is not something I'm unused to," said Legolas, "but no, mellon-nin, not this time. I've to see to Ithilien. They've been without me for too long."
"Ah," said Aragorn, understanding but disappointed, "Yes. Well. Leadership is what it is."
"Aye," grumbled Gimli, "We are all quite old and disgustingly responsible."
"Will you be joining me master dwarf?" asked Aragorn.
Gimli glanced at Legolas thoughtfully. They've not seen each other in awhile, but he felt he would be of much more use beside the King of Gondor, this time. Legolas did not need anyone looking over his shoulder and jostling his elbow over the comparatively mechanical task of checking upon his soldiers. He's long been their lord and it was not a trying task for an elf born to command. Aragorn, on the other hand, was off to deal with an Easterling King.
"I won't pine for the loss of you if that is what you're thinking," said Legolas wryly.
"That's not at all what I'm thinking," snapped Gimli, "I was merely contemplating who amongst you troublemakers will likely not survive if I was not around to get you out of your straits."
"Ah yes, well," said Legolas, "Aragorn is your fellow then."
"That is arguable," said Elessar mildly, though his eyes were laughing. He sighed in pleasure. "Well. The journey in the morning will bring to me what fellows it will. In the meantime, we stand before a peace we've long labored for and I have a free evening with two good friends who are often too scarce for my liking. Tonight, we are together, and all is well."
"All is well," echoed Legolas, softly, that the expectant-looking Elessar may not hear the lie. But Aragorn caught it either way, and was opening his mouth to speak of it when the sentries outside brought in the tea.
The rains caught their zenith in the evening. It was cold and wet, and the sturdy tent swayed with the slashes of the wind. The dwarf dominated a corner of the King's quarters, just as the boom of his snoring dominated the room, and the pitter-patter of the rain against the tents seemed… well, dwarfed by the sound.
The evening reminded him of some nights ago, the last time he had been with royalty in a tent under the deluge of rain. That royalty had been Nicolo, whom he killed that same night. He stared up at the ceiling emptily, as he recalled the dead man's words.
All that is truly grave and tragic begins not with death and killing which is a given especially in times of war
"You're not sleeping," came the quiet murmur of Elessar somewhere in the darkness of the room, toward his left.
"Neither are you," the elf replied evenly, "Mellon-nin… do you know that I cannot remember the last time I shared a room with you and there was a decent shade over our heads?"
The King gave it a moment of thought before he chuckled. "You are right. We always seem to by lying beneath naught but a ceiling of stars."
"You make it sound better than it was," said Legolas wryly, "There were dark, cold clouds too, and snow, and rain, and sleet, and thunderstorms…"
"I try to forget about those," said Aragorn impishly.
"You try to forget much," the elf retorted.
"Ah yes, well," said Aragorn lightly, "But who amongst the pair of us is the happier, hm?"
"Why, do I look unhappy?" asked the elf, brows raised.
The man hesitated. "You seem much changed."
"It was not meant to be a serious question," the elf said after an uneasy silence and a long moment of thought.
"It nevertheless deserved a serious answer," said Aragorn, and Legolas heard him shift in the dark, likely to turn toward him. Elves glowed, and he knew full-well that the man could see him relatively clearly.
"What makes you look as if you have the world on your shoulders, my friend?" Aragorn asked him gently.
"I don't have the world on my shoulders," Legolas said lightly, wishing for some levity and praying the man would indulge him, "That is your job."
Aragorn did not let it go, of course, but the elf could hear the touch of a smile upon his words. "Be serious, now. You seem… weary. But also restless. You run yourself to the ground. I've not seen this in you since…" he hesitated again, and Legolas also heard in his pained voice the streaks of equally painful memories, "I've not seen this in you for a long while."
Not since they thought Gandalf died. Not since Boromir died. Not since Helm's Deep and all that it meant for his doomed kin there. No, he's not seen this in his elven friend for quite some time.
"Is it the sea-longing?" inquired the adan, "Is it…"
He did not continue the question. Legolas would know what it meant. It meant that part they were never supposed to speak of. It meant her, she who was not to be named, she whose name was never Aragorn's to utter.
"It is all this warring," Legolas said and decided it was not too much of a lie, "I've not found enough time to stand back and catch my breath. And when I do find the time, my mind is plagued by all the other things I have to do and then I'm not rested at all. Lying around is a complete waste of my time."
"Well it is all almost to an end it seems," Aragorn said, skeptical that this was the true reason, but accepting for now, "The gods willing."
"Aye," agreed Legolas, "The gods willing."
"I am excited for this treaty," said Aragorn, "Did you ever think we'd live through to an age of peace?"
"No," said Legolas, leaving it at that after he decided that to be honest and expressly say that he didn't think he'd ever be at peace even now would just worry the man some more.
"And here we are," Aragorn murmured.
"You sound sleepy," the elf declared, "I suppose you've not found much time for rest yourself."
"That is true," conceded the King, stifling a yawn, "You are off to Ithilien in the morning?"
"Yes," replied Legolas, "I plan to leave here when you leave to see Eomer."
"Ah," said Aragorn, "If you will not be too busy, my friend, find the time to go to Minas Tirith after you see to your beloved Ithilien. See how my city fares, see my wife and child. My brothers are there as well. Let them ease your mind, take some rest. And… I wonder if you'd bear them a message from me."
"I knew there was a catch," chuckled the elf, "You own an army, you shameless man, and you still make me do menial things."
"I'm being economical," said Elessar, "Only if you happen by that way, of course."
"I'm sure I'll find the time," said Legolas with a half-baked effort at sarcasm. The conversation was taking a lighter turn that was disarming him, making him quite ready for some rest indeed. Already his mind was fleeting. "What is this message of yours that I am to bring to them?"
"I was going to make something up," said Aragorn with a yawn, "Just so you'd take the time to stay there awhile and breathe. I can't make you do so for I'll be occupied elsewhere, but my brothers can probably succeed. In all seriousness, elf, you do need the rest."
"I will take that into consideration," Legolas murmured sleepily, "Estel?"
"Yes?" inquired the King.
"About this treaty business," said the elf, voice drifting as his own mind began to depart toward rest, "If you asked me to, I will. I can't pretend it won't be difficult but just ask it of me. Just give me some time, but I will do it if you ask it of me…"
Aragorn blinked, trying to get his mind to wake. The elf was saying something important. "Ask you to what?"
The elf didn't reply. He was sound asleep, he's long been weary, and Aragorn did not have the heart to wake him.
TO BE CONTINUED…
HEY GUYS! Thanks to all who read and especially all who reviewed! I'm a bit in a rush so I'll put up responses to your queries in the next poswt. I suppose I wanted to get this out already. Anyway, I hope it went ok… you know your feedback is important in how the tale progresses so they are always always welcome :) happy easter! Next chapter, we'll be running into Elladan and Elrohir :) 'TIL THE NEXT POST!