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.
Rebekah: Nadina's personal maid.
Dorjan: Nadina and Danielli's son.
Jonah: an old Easterling warrior.
Tadeo: an old Gondorian warrior
Morgetti: Nathaniel's ward turned rebel leader who wants to take the kingdom of the Sang-age from Nathaniel.
PART THREE: Roads
Chapter Seventeen: The Last Stop
The Road West
They rode on in their horses, the riding party down to half after the camels, their masters and Aaron left to return to Nathaniel's lands. The route home was quite simple; the land of the Sang-agen was directly east of Rohan. They'd ride to Rohan from which they had originally set out, and then from Rohan ride south to Gondor.
Elrohir smiled to himself at the idea of a successful mission and nearing home, not to mention the thought of air that did not burn and having so much water that he did not know what to do with it.
In the meantime, he frowned slightly, as a hot wind burned past his face and he blinked sank irately from his eyes, I'm going to be swimming in a rather shameless amount of sand.
"Your friend, he is much smarter than you," Rebekah commented, coming up to ride beside him at the head of the column. She seemed to appear from nowhere, so much a part of the dessert was she.
"What's that?" Elrohir asked, confused.
The maid nodded absently, in the general direction of the back of the line. "Haldir, the blonde fellow."
Elrohir looked toward the former Marchwarden, who was sharing a horse with Gimli the dwarf. Like the Easterlings they were traveling with, Haldir had the fancy green cloak he had picked up from the Valar knew where wrapped about his face and neck, and only his eyes could be seen.
"Interesting man," Rebekah murmured.
"You dobn't know the half of it," Elrohir smirked, "He wasn't always like that."
"Oh really?" she asked, and he watched with some amusement the artless grace of a wily, beautiful woman's brow rising, and her sky blue eyes widening just a little. Rebekah was obviously a woman who had a good head on her shoulders. She was intelligent, confident, charming when she felt like it. But gossip was gossip, it seemed, and her curiosity was making her a bit more… well, normal.
"He was elf through and through," said Elrohir, "More than me. You see, I traveled with the edain much. But he lived with them for years. That's where we got all our rough edges."
Her lips quirked. "Yes… you, in particular, you've much of that. I imagined elves to be much more… much more…"
"Quiet?" he supplied, "Serious?"
"Humorless," she finished, "Refined."
"Ah," he grinned, "Not at all very sorry to disappoint. I happen to like laughing aloud, and scrunching my face like so," he wrinkled his nose to illustrate, "and I happen to enjoy grit and grime."
"We have a saying," said she with a laugh, and she lowered her voice when she noticed that the four old women were glaring at them hotly, "that if an ill wind passes and you're making faces such as that one, it will stay that way forever."
"I do not believe that," Elrohir said, although he did relax his face, "I bet they say that to keep naughty children from doing so. I bet also that you must have heard it quite a lot of times in your youth."
"I did not," she said primly, her chin jutting up proudly. For a moment, it seemed to the elf's eyes that she was somebody else entirely. Even her posture shifted, and the tone of her voice changed. But then with gleaming eyes, she winked at him, and he laughed.
"I thought so," he said triumphantly.
"I came forward in behalf of my lady," said Rebekah, "And our older folk. They wish for a stop."
"Then we shall comply," said Elrohir with a smile.
The rode on in comfortable silence. She kept his pace instead of returning to her mistress. The sandy dunes were eternal and stretched around them. They rose, they fell, they went on 'til forever. The path before them looked like the path they just traversed. It made one wonder if they were still going the right way. The only direction Elrohir could tell was up from down – the difference between sky and sand was as stark as the difference between fire and ice. North and south, east and west, though… there was just sand, occasionally broken by clusters of rocks and caves and mysterious shadows of sandstone mountains. They provided occasional shelter as well as water, which was of course, perpetually in short supply.
The party decided not to carry much water on their persons, for a lighter, faster ride. They did not expect to die of thirst, blessed as they were with guides who knew the water routes well. They stopped more this way for drinking, but the rides were faster. Elrohir decided earlier on that the trade-off was vital, because time was of the essence. The armistice between the Gondor front and the joint forces of the Easterlings and Southrons stretches more tautly with time, it can only be held for so long after all. The sooner Nadina and Legolas are wed and the treaties properly drafted and distributed, the sooner peace could be attained.
But they had to stop for shade and water first if they all planned to reach the West alive. Personally though, if it was the glaring old hags who wanted the rest stop, Elrohir didn't mind being thirsty a little longer if it meant they suffered too…
He smiled to himself. Such dirty thoughts, were of course, more playfulness than truth.
This should be our last stop in this dessert, Elrohir thought with great relief, as their Eastern scout rode ahead to lead them to one of the rocky mountains. And then they'd be West, where water sources didn't need mapping or desperate searching. Where one wasn't competing with snakes and scorpions mucking around in the shade.
"The air is cooling," Rebekah said to him, "And I've not gone as far as this from home. We must be nearing yours."
"The air is cooling?" scoffed the elf, in profround disbelief, "The air is cooling?"
"Yes," she laughed, "Trust me, it is."
Elrohir watched their scout ride into the shadows of the mountain and out of his view.
"Water and shade," the Gondorians behind him murmured, spurring their horses forward in great anticipation. Elrohir smiled tightly to himself and let them pass him in their eagerness. His constitution was much more sturdy, he can most certainly wait a breath longer for such pleasures.
"Faster, faster," he heard the delectable dwarf spur Haldir of Lorien forward.
"I'm not the bloody horse, master dwarf," grumbled the former Marchwarden, but they rode past Elrohir with barely a nod of acknowledgement.
Elrohir let them all breeze past him; the Easterlings, the old women virtue guards, the princess, the Gondorians, his friends. Rebekah beside him pressed her horse forward too.
The sand beneath them thinned and turned to firm, uneven rock, just as the cliff walls rose around them, jagged fists of the Earth reaching for the skies. It was like a city of stone, surrounding a wide-mouthed cave.
And then quite suddenly, the urgency of finding relief in water and shade was replaced by a new form of urgency altogether. From the back of the column, Elrohir noticed with some alarm that the group stopped suddenly and fell silent, just a breath before the scout burst forth from the opening of the rock ranges to ride toward him.
The Rivendell elf strained his senses, and rode to meet the scout halfway, asking, "What is it?"
"Another camp, my lord," replied the Easterling, "But we see only their effects, and not their persons."
Elrohir rode forward once more, and noted the curious sights and sounds of indeed, another party camping in the mountain. His senses bristled, and his horse shifted nervously. There was a dying campfire, some discarded silks and other miscellaneous things scattered on the ground. But no people.
The riding party froze in their tracks. Elrohir's mind raced. He wasn't supposed to be nervous; these were Nathaniel's lands and therefore, the forces couldn't be a hostile army because Nathaniel was an ally now. And besides, these were mapped water-sources. Perhaps the other party was comprised of travelers, merchants. He certainly couldn't see any military effects. But then again, they could be bandits too…
He looked up at the jagged cliffs surrounding them worriedly.
"I want everyone to surround the women," he said in a low voice, and the horse-borne Easterling and Gondorian soldiers made a protective circle that ensconced the princess, her maid and her aging chaperones.
"And now we shall have a slow and careful retreat," he said, as they slowly backed out the way they came. He still stared up at the cliffs. They did not make for very bad hiding places for an ambush at all.
"If this turns out to be all for nothing laddie," he heard Gimli mutter, "I'll be the first to laugh. And the loudest."
"We'll eagerly listen, master dwarf," Haldir hushed him.
But no sooner that the backmost horse's hoof touched sand again that they heard a foreign-tongued signal shouted, the precursor of archers emerging from the tops and cracks of the cliffs overhead. Their clothes were gray and wrinkled, weathered like the sand and the rocks in almost perfect camouflage. There was about fifty of them, heavily armed men with faces obscured by their cloaks. One of them was shouting commands at Elrohir's party.
"Adriano," called Elrohir to the bilingual valet, "What is he saying? Who are they? Do they live here? Have we violated any laws?"
"This is not theirs," replied Adriano, "This is the King Nathaniel's property, and we are his highest ranking servants, we have more rights than any settlers or traveling parties. Note the arrows and the knives, my lord. We are face to face with what must be some of the hardiest bandits of the Sang-agen. They are the largest bunch I've seen."
"These are hardly simple outlaws, young one," said one of the old women carefully. She was staring at the apparent leader of the bunch, the one who held no arms but stood akimbo as he stared down at them.
"What is he saying?" Elrohir asked.
"He wants us to lay down our arms," Adriano replied, "If we want to stay alive."
"You will do no such thing," said the old woman who had just spoken, "No. Keep those arms and do not deal with this man."
Elrohir waved at her to keep quiet, and glanced around him, wondering when it was that Estel had ever given him anything simple to do. The odds were bad, if they tried to struggle.
"Tell him to take very careful note of the colors we carry," Elrohir ordered the aide, "Tell him to think this through very carefully. Ask him if he wants nothing short of six or seven kingdoms burning his tail if we should come to harm."
Adriano raised his voice and spoke to the leader of the group, conveying Elrohir's message. The bandit leader replied coolly, and Elrohir noted their translator's uncomfortable wince.
"He says," aid Adriano, "That it is those colors you are so proud of that gives him more to deal with. Ransom."
"Tell him he's shortsighted," snapped Elrohir, "Tell him to let us have our drink and set us on our way. He is interfering with an important mission that spells the end of the war."
Adriano did as he was told, and the bandit leader retorted something in return. "He says ransom first. He does not care about our affairs. He has his own problems."
Elrohir's mind raced. "Tell him to release some of us. Who he releases will be our choice. Most will stay and we will all behave. Those released will relay his message and he will get his ransom shortly afterward."
Yes, that was fair. He can pick Nadina, two of her old chaperones, Haldir and one Gondorian and one Easterling soldier for release. That way, the princess can be safe and the treaty set into motion. At least the bandits knew how important the rest of them were; they wouldn't kill, they'd wait for the bloody ransom and they'll get it, just before they get arrested.
"He says he gets to choose," Adriano told Elrohir.
"No," Elrohir insisted, "Tell him we get to choose. Or else we fight, and we fight until we die, and he'd loose not only his hostages and his money but many of his men as well."
As Adriano translated and waited for the leader's reply, the anxious old woman said urgently to Elrohir, "Do not deal with him. We must run." She was still staring at the bandit leader with wide eyes.
"Please calm down," Elrohir implored her, mistaking her anxiety for an inexperienced woman's fears. "I will take care of us."
"No, no," she urged, "Do not deal with him. He is lying. He wants no simple ransom. We will run if we must, and yes, some of us will die. But some of us will live too. If we stay here, I promise you we will all perish."
"I will take care of us," Elrohir hushed her, turning his attention to Adriano instead, "What did he say to that?"
"You do not know him," the old woman insisted, "He is Morgetti."
"Who?" Elrohir asked.
Rebekah's head shot toward the old woman. "Morgetti? But my father said--"
"I know his face. Now we must run," the old woman cut her off, and the old woman's horse was sharing her anxiety now, pounding its hooves, breathing harshly, making the horses that surround it back away.
"He said he gets to pick," said Adriano, "He says your bargaining position is nonexistent."
"We must run," the old woman said again, "At the very least, he will take the princess for his own wife, I guarantee it. And then he will kill us all. And then where does your precious treaty go?"
"We run we die," Elrohir snapped, "Their shooting positions are superior."
"We stay we die," the old woman said, before shifting in her own tongue and saying something to Rebekah. The maid shook her head vigorously.
"No," Rebekah said. The old woman argued. The horses were getting restless.
"Out of curiosity," Elrohir said, "Just who would he choose?"
As Adriano translated, the old woman and Rebekah argued in low tones, in their own tongue. The Easterling soldiers were looking at them worriedly.
"He said," Adriano told Elrohir, "that the only ones who get to stay are the two elves, the dwarf, the princess. Everyone else is released."
"No bargain," said Elrohir, "The princess is urgently needed. Let her release be a sign of his good will. Everyone else he mentioned can stay as he pleases--"
But the choice was soon to be taken from Elrohir and the bandit leader. The anxious old woman who desperately wanted escape pulled at the reins of her neighing horse, and it stood on two legs aggressively and kicked and bucked at the surrounding riders, as she fought her way out of the protective circle.
"Stop!" Elrohir commanded her, and the bandit leader shouted out his own commands as well. Everyone was talking and yelling at the same time.
"Stop!" Elrohir commanded the woman, as he reached to take the reins from her hands. But she was a good horsewoman, and her beast did all that she commanded. She fought her way to an opening, and she kicked her horse forward at a run. Elrohir heard the tightening of arrowstrings and he looked up at the archers over their heads, just waiting for the command to release. They were all aiming at the old woman.
"Adriano, tell them she doesn't know what she's doing," Elrohir said breathlessly, turning his own horse to follow the woman and stop her himself, "Tell them not to shoot!"
But the bandits did not listen. One archer let loose his arrow, and Elrohir heard it sing over his head and tear its way into the woman's back. His eyes blurred in pain and anger. Her body tensed and arched and fell to the sand as her horse went on and on without her in its desperate run. Her body was limp, and her last movement was the spasming and stilling of her empty hands.
He turned to look at the assailant, just in time to catch two arrows that were originally aimed for the back of his heart.
"Elrohir!" Haldir exclaimed, drawing his own bow and arrow and firing at their attackers. The otrher soldiers followed suit, and shafts of arrows rained back down at them.
"Retreat!" Gimli exclaimed, and no one needed to be told twice. Already, everyone was making for the sands, away from the rocks and their attackers. The odds were bad, but if they could get far enough from the range of arrows, escape would be easy because the bandits hid their horses and were on foot during the ambush.
"Go! Go!" Adriano yelled to the womenfolk, as their soldiers covered their exit.
Rebekah headed the way, and stopped her dead run before Elrohir, who was swaying on his saddle. He was awake, but the arrows protruded from his chest at odd angles, and more rained all around them.
"Go," he said to her, his voice broken and breathless, "Take the princess. You know the route." He blinked in an effort to clear his wavering vision, arms reaching for his own bow and arrows.
"You're insane!" she yelled at him, "You are no good here-"
He let loose one shaft, motivated by her challenge. It met its mark, but at considerable cost to him. He coughed, managed to let loose another, before his wounds got the better of him and he began to slump over.
"Fool elf!" Rebekah exclaimed, dodging arrows from the bandits as she hopped off her horse and mounted his. She embraced him to keep him steady, took the reins from his slack hands and spirited the two of them away from there.
The skirmish did not last for very long.
Once the women escaped, the wise thing to do was surrender. Perhaps some of them could be ransomed off and could survive. What was important was that Nadina reached the West in time.
Most of them died, though, save for Haldir, Gimli, the Easterlings Adriano and Jonah, and the Western Tadeo. Five fatalities from the Gondorians, ans four from the Easterlings. Elrohir had been shot, Haldir was sure. But he was not amongst the dead bodies recovered from the sands just outside the mountains and from within it. The hits the Rivendell elf had taken were bad, but until Haldir saw his old friend's body dragged into the fire along with the others', he saw no reason not to hope. They've defied fantastic odds many times before.
In the meantime, there was each other to care for. None of the survivors escaped unscathed. The five of them were rounded up to a corner, backed against a rock wall, stripped of their goods and their weapons. Two guards watched over them carefully, as the rest of the bandits gathered the dead, said their Eastern prayers, fixed their camp and readied for dinner.
"The bandit leader," Adriano said to Haldir softly, so as not to attract unwanted attention, "His name is Morgetti. The old woman was right."
"Is it safe to talk so openly?" asked Gimli urgently.
"They do not speak Westron," Adriano pointed out.
"I thought everyone in the King's service did," the dwarf argued.
Adriano shook his head, "No, no. Nathaniel insisted on it only later in his reign, when it became apparent we'd all have to deal with each other sooner or later. Morgetti left long before that. A decade before that, at least."
"I've never heard of this Morgetti fellow," Haldir murmured.
"Remember how for the Sang-agen, the victors get the spoils?" asked Adriano, "When Prince Legolas killed my lords Nicolo and Danielli, he acquired their lands, their women, their children. Everything. Remember?"
"Yes," Haldir said, urging the young man on.
"King Nathaniel did not always rule the Sang-age people," continued Adriano, "He was a promising soldier who did not like its King's abuses. So he revolted, killed and replaced the King. He became a much loved one instead. King Nathaniel is wise, and fair. Because all that was the previous King's property now belonged to him, he owned too, the King's wife and his young son- Morgetti. Normally, the children of the deceased were killed, so as not to rebel in the future. But the Queen killed herself, and let it be known that if her son was killed, her vengeful ghost will always haunt the household. But she needn't have done such an act just to save the life of her child. Nathaniel always reasoned that the father's crime is not the son's. He always meant to spare the life of Morgetti. Upon the mother's tragic death, Nathaniel did not raise Morgetti as a prince, of course, but he taught him to be a good soldier, and a decent man."
"And he was," Jonah continued for Adriano, "At least for a short time. Morgetti rose up the ranks, became a captain. He was even charged with one of the country's most important missions."
"What would that be?" asked Gimli.
"The search for the Blood of Darat," replied Adriano, "Quite a number of years ago, someone was convinced of a realistic lead toward finding the fabled elixir for immortality. But then… his army all but vanished, off the face of the land. Legend has it they found the Blood and joined the gods in heaven. The King's advisers are more realistic than the masses, though. They believe that Morgetti deserted, and created his own army to one day depose Nathaniel. I suppose now we know for sure that the truth must be the latter. As the old woman said… this is not just a group of knaves, my lords. We've stumbled upon Morgetti's Lost Army."
"I understand now why he'd have particular interest in keeping the princess," said Gimli, "He can have the lass ransomed for the land! Or," he wrinkled his nose, "Married her and took a share of it."
"The old woman was indeed right to run away," said Jonah, "She must have known she would die. But the distraction she provided saved the princess, and your East-West treaty, in the end."
"She might also be right in one other dreaded thing," murmured Haldir, "That Morgetti and his army might have us all killed. We know who they are, we know where they hide, we know they are near and they might be coming to claim Nathaniel's lands. Perhaps our surrender was not so wise after all."
The others nodded wistfully, before their attention was caught by the arrival of some more of the 'bandits' from the dessert.
"They did not have the luxury of pursuit," Adriano said urgently, "Because they hid their horses. We were still lucky, in that sense, that some of us were able to run away."
"They've recovered more bodies," said Jonah, "From nearby. Those they shot, or perhaps those who were shot but died along the road." His voice wavered in worry. Was the princess amongst them…?
They saw the robes of four women. The five captive soldiers angled for a look, making their guards nervous.
"Oh dear gods," breathed Gimli. He sighted three more of the four old women, all dead, like that first one who had been shot in an effort to distract the archers. The last figure was smaller, younger, gentler in features than her craggly chaperones.
Nadina, he realized. The young princess was tossed in amongst the dead, quite cavalierly. Morgetti watched the process without even blinking, his intense eyes reflecting the flames of the ever-growing fire. He seemed more thoughtful than angered or aggrieved over her loss.
"No," breathed Tadeo, although for some strange reason, the Easterlings with them seemed relieved.
"Do not despair, my friends," Adriano told the dwarf, the elf and the sole Gondorian soothingly, "I'm afraid I must apologize for the ruse. That is not the real Nadina."
"What?" Haldir asked.
"The woman who was introduced to you as the Princess Nadina," said Jonah, "The woman tossed into the fires. She is actually the princess' maid. Her name was Rebekah. She is the dead one we all look upon now."
"And the maid that was introduced to us?" asked Gimli.
"She is the real Nadina," said Adriano, "Nadina and Rebekah have traded places to fool you. The princess always liked getting the upper hand, especially in gleaning information. And look. Now she's also successfully escaped."
"Why would she do such a thing?" asked Tadeo.
"Well the conventions 'Rebekah' spoke of are true," replied Adriano, "The bride-to-be is not to speak to the kin of her betrothed. But the real princess has a strong will and a sharp mind. She does not like standing back. The pretension allowed her the room to see how you folk interact when not in formal diplomacy, as you would act before a princess. She wanted to see what kind of people you were. You see how much better you knew the woman you thought was the maid than you did the one you thought to be the princess? Nadina never feared to walk amongst us common folk. That is why she is much loved. She is like her father."
"So 'Rebekah' is Nadina," Gimli clarified.
"Yes," said Adriano, "And I'm afraid we must try out our own pretensions as well."
"What do you mean?' asked the dwarf suspiciously.
"My lord Haldir," said Adriano to the elf, "I'm afraid I'd have to introduce you as Legolas of Mirkwood."
"Why is that?" asked the elf.
"Because the likelihood that we'd all be killed is lessened by the considerable… price, of the Prince, if you will," said Adriano matter-of-factly, "He is much more expensive than a retired Marchwarden from a fading kingdom, and it is easy to mistake you. They'll keep you alive longer. The dwarf is a lord as well and holds his own value. I'm the interpreter. And if you can think of fancy titles for our other friends, that would be optimal."
"No," argued Tadeo, "That will arouse suspicion. What are the odds of everyone 'important' surviving? There has to be dispensible characters in your charade, my lord. I am old, I've lived a full life, and am willing to play such a part."
"As am I," said Jonah, meeting the Gondorian soldier's eye determinedly, "It seems, my old enemy, that we find ourselves on the same side."
The old soldiers grinned at each other, almost manically. The wars made curious comrades of all her soldiers, from all her sides. They shared the same, lethal fates, the same crimes, the same determination. How late it is that they were all learning they were more alike than different. Haldir prayed that just as this realization was made, it will not end in death for those enlightened. The men were great soldiers, and even better people.
"Let it be done then," Gimli breathed.
"I must warn you of one thing, however," Adriano said to Haldir, "They won't be overly… um… gentle with you."
"Oh?" Haldir asked, his brow quirking.
"They'll keep Legolas of Mirkwood alive," said Adriano, "But he is widely known as one of the finest slaughterers of the Easterlings. I've heard tall tales about some mumakil and its entire regiment being felled by him single-handedly on foot, but we'll talk about that later. They will keep you alive, but they might hurt you a little."
"Fantastic," muttered the Lorien elf, "I'll be trailing across the dessert bearing the hated elf's name. What luck. To pay for things I didn't do."
"Or a thing no one probably ever did!" exclaimed Jonah, "A mumakil against a single elf on foot? Ridiculous!"
"It happened," Gimli swore to them, "Oh, I was there. It happened." He turned to Haldir, "Unfortunately for you."
To be continued…
hey guys:) thanks so much for the c&c's... i'm nearing the end of this fic, actually. and once again, a double post for your enjoyment (or misery, but i hope not!). your comments are always always always welcome, they help enrich the story. it's getting thicker, i know- more characters, more twists... but i do hope you stick around. i'm going to be bringing back Legolas and Aragorn from the interludes to the prersent timeline in a few days, so look out for that. i'm also angling for an ending you may or may not expect. anyway, THANKS SO MUCH again and 'til the next post!
in the meantime, just some responses:
to eleveneyes: ah, yes, the biblical names are coincidences, but i do like how exotic they sound and they remind me of the desert so, haha, i guess that's how they came together:)
to abernaith: i didn't know that! i'm really so happy that you appreciate how i depict love... this is like a new tack for me in the lotr fandom so i really really appreciate it :)
to aranna: i think your english is pretty good! and yes, i do tend to lean to the philosophical, haha. especially when it comes to m/m love because i'm trying to find out the reason why. i mean, it's such a nightmare, right, it's so hard for them. love is hard enough to find without society pressing its masculinity/femininity conventions upon them, so i think it's doubly hard. and i don't think the feelings can't be helped; who'd want the hardship or the negative stigma unfortunately attached to them? so there. you're right, the philosophical stuff comes from me basically wondering how men can love other men despite it being really very hard.
to elessar-lover: oh wow, as always, i'm just really very very thankful for your faith. i know it's a leap, and it's a leap for me too, but i truly truly treasure your trust :)
'TIL THE NEXT POST:)