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 are a creation of the author and is supposed to be one of the multitude of Easterling tribes, not particularly powerful but also influential. Their land is situated east of Rohan.
The Doloresi: another tribe of author-imagined Easterlings, whose land is situated east of Eryn Lasgalen.
King Nathaniel: the King of the Sang-age tribe.
Prince Nicolo: Heir of Nathaniel, and a renown and vicious warrior.
King Danielli: the king of the Doloresi, 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.
Lilian: Legolas' murdered betrothed. An elf from Lothlorien.
Mikael: Legolas' personal guard.
Adriano: a young Easterling aide and valet.
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 Eighteen: North, South, East and West
The East
It's getting colder.
Elrohir might have said it aloud, but he wasn't entirely certain.
It is nighttime after all.
It might have been true. Although his eyes might have been closed also. And also, he wasn't entirely certain. But he was mostly certain that it was nighttime, because he was mostly certain that his eyes were seldom closed.
Seldom, he thought decisively, Only in times when I'm grievously hurt. Such as whenever I ride off to hunt orc with my insufferable brothers and occasionally end up on the unfortunate end of a warrior's blade. Or whenever I get hit by a warg, fall off a tree, get shot by arrows…
Very rare occurances, he thought, although there was something quite wrong about that, for a reason he can't quite… remember.
"Hold on, my lord," an earthy, female voice whispered in his ear, "You will find some relief shortly."
Rebekah, he realized, just as a flood of other less welcome memories flowed into his consciousness, stirring him awake, quickening the pace of his heart. His eyes snapped open at once. And just as he woke to memories, and the dessert, so too did he wake to the hurts that permeated his body. The arrow wounds were burning and persistent, and he could still see the shafts embedded on his chest.
"Oh dear gods…" he breathed, and he felt arms tighten around him reassuringly. It was indeed the maid Rebekah, sharing his steed and holding him steady.
"Shhh," she cooed at him, "They are flesh wounds. I did not wish to pry at them and let you bleed free, when no organs are endangered. I deemed the blood loss more threatening. I am unlearned in these arts, but was that wise?"
"In the meantime," he said softly, still weakened. His head was swaying, and he did feel cold by virtue of not just the dessert night but also by the hurts he'd taken.
"Lucky for you they missed your small, black heart," she teased, but he was quite weary and subdued that he could not even show his appreciation with a half-hearted laugh.
"You've slept a long while," Rebekah murmured, "I just remembered that I've not seen you sleep in all the time that we traveled together."
"Oh, worried were you?" he smirked, finding that though he was weary his spirits were still quite… undefeatable.
"Of course," she said softly, not bothering with pretenses, "We're quite… alone. There is no one else with us. I feared for you just as I fear for myself, traversing the rest of this road alone."
"The others?" whispered Elrohir.
"If they lived," she replied, "They have most certainly been captured."
Elrohir said nothing. He took a deep, shaky breath and exhaled indulgently. This was all of his grieving, for he was never really one to do so at length. He's known his share of loss in this infinite life. One took it in, let loose a tear or two or preferably none, if one could manage it. And then one got on with the things that needed doing, aid those who needed help. Besides, until he saw the corpses of his people and his friends, there was never a reason not to hope.
"We must head west," he said to her, "We must fetch aid. Rohan. It is not so far."
She said nothing for a long while, and he wondered how long he'd been unconscious, which path they've been following for the entirety of that time, if she even knew where it was she was going or where it was she had taken them.
"Rebekah?" he called upon her, dreading her response and also wanting it quite desperately, "Where in the world have you decided to bring us?"
"North," she said under her breath.
Elrohir reigned in his temper. She went north despite knowing quite well that their route was to the west? "All right," he breathed, "Tell me it's a hideous mistake and you didn't know what you were doing."
"Of course I know what I'm doing," she bristled at him, "We're going north. We couldn't go straight back east to Nathaniel's lands from which we came because Morgetti's army stood in our way. I couldn't go west to Rohan because I didn't know where your western outposts stood. I couldn't go south to Easterling territory that was not yet allied to the West with you, an elf. I could only go north, to the land that once was Danielli's and Nicolo's. I lived there with my mistress Nadina. I know where the outposts are, and they will help us because we are allies now."
"Well I'm quite awake already," said Elrohir, his fingers snaking to take the reins of the horse from hers, "I know the western outposts. We're going west. They must be apprised of the situation. My royal charge, taken for a hostage. How bloody embarrassing."
"We're nearer to the northern outpost by now," she cut him off, "than to the western ones of Rohan. You need medical attention as soon as we can get it. And my people need warning too. Our danger is more immediate than the danger of your hostages."
"I hardly think so," snapped Elrohir, "If the damn bandits want a ransom for the life of the princess, I have to arrange for it quickly, so we can get this treaty into motion. Estel's going to make me sell all the treasures of Imladris…" he muttered.
"I'm losing track of what you are talking about," she told him frankly, "Listen to me, my lord. That was not just a bunch of bandits we ran into, and I doubt they truly wanted simple ransom. They just wanted to appease us into surrender. So we'd be easier to control.
"That was Morgetti's Lost Army," she continued, "They are made up of Morgetti, who once was King Nathaniel's captain, his regiment of soldiers, and what must be some mercenaries he's managed to amass over the years. He deserted the Sang-agen many years ago, and it's widely believed that he's been angling for a revolution to take over the throne. No one's been able to find Morgetti and lived to tell about it. We've found them, my lord. And they are nearing Sang-agen lands that they've wanted for so long. Lands which are all but defenseless because most of the Sang-agen army was dispatched to fight you cursed westerners some time ago. We must summon the army from the north to come to the defense of the Sang-age. That army is Lord Legolas' now, since he killed Danielli and Nicolo. And you are Legolas' representative. They will listen to your orders. Besides, the defense of the Sang-age from these rebels will make sense to the northern soldiers. The Sang-age is the country of their lord Legolas' wife-to-be."
"I do not want an army marauding toward Morgetti," said Elrohir, "The princess could get killed in the crossfire. We need her alive for the treaty. I know you care about your people, but I care about mine as well, and the fate of the peace for the greater number of people lies in her being alive and marrying Legolas. That is my mission, I cannot be derailed."
"Oh drown the princess," Rebekah muttered, "She can fend for herself. We're going north."
Elrohir blinked at the road ahead, for he couldn't find the strength to turn toward her. Did he just hear that?
"D-drown who?" he asked.
"Never mind," she said, "We're going north."
"West," he argued, his hands gripping her hands as their fingers wrestled for the reins.
"North!" she exclaimed.
"West!" he insisted.
And so they struggled, and the horse was quite annoyed at them both, neighing and stomping in protest, making the tally of warring hard-headed beings up to three as the games started between Easterling woman, Rivendell elf and Rohan horse.
She triumphantly pried the reins away from him with a twist of her body, inadvertently jostling his injured shoulder. His grip slackened at once, and his vision wavered.
"You're a cheat," he said shakily, as he began to sway in his seat and slump forward once more.
"Oh gods," she breathed, tightening her hold about his waist when she realized what he meant, "I'm so sorry! I did not mean to do so horrid a thing…"
"West…" he murmured, as he fell unconscious once again.
"I'm sorry," she whispered in his ear as she held him close to her body, securing him and warming him in her arms, "I admit I erred, and I am truly sorry for your hurts. But you still won't be getting your way."
Dolores,
The Land of Danielli
In the Northeast
The Eastern edain tribes who made the fatal mistake of allying with the evil forces of Sauron were set to pay the lethal price at last. The fall of the Dark Lord after the War of the Ring sealed their fates as well.
From end to end of Middle-Earth, the armies of Eryn Lasgalen, Lothlorien, Rohan and Gondor formed an unprecedented column of soldiers marching East. Failure was an impossibility. The only question was how much success was going to cost, and it was a strict, hideously frugal barter with fate.
The warrior tribes of the East were scattered in defense of their lands. For the first time in their notorious histories of war-mongering, they were pressed into their borders and facing a definitive defeat. The armies of the West were flexing their newfound muscle, and ironically purchasing peace through the threat of a massive, destructive power.
The elves of Eryn Lasgalen and the remnants of Lothlorien faced off with the northeast, the forces of King Danielli. Directly south of the elven realms, Rohan fought against the mideastern armies of King Nathaniel. South of Rohan- Gondor, that is, faced the more massive southeastern armies.
The war comprised, then, of basically three rounds, as in old games and sporting events. The first bout, between the elves and Danielli's northeast, was won by Eryn Lasgalen under command of Legolas Greenleaf. The second bout was won by the Rohiriim by virtue of Nathaniel's surrender.
Wars, however, unlike old games, was not won by a 'best two out of three.' People lost their lives, here. And the last round can make everyone a winner, provided the peace treaty pushed through, sealed by the marriage of Legolas Greenleaf to Nadina of the Sang-age.
Such thoughts weighed heavily upon the princess, as she rode with the unconscious elven warrior encased in her arms. Elrohir had been right in his concerns for the treaty, of course. But then again, she'd been right about wanting to protect the Sang-age too. Perhaps... perhaps she'd do well to confess to him exactly who she is, that they may decide what to do together.
She passed the first of the border guards of Dolores, who all greeted her with reverence and respect, not questioning her presence or her strange companion.
'Ride ahead,' she ordered one of the men, 'Summon the healer, prepare a room. And tell my son's maid to ready his things for immediate travel.'
He nodded, and set off toward the heart of the kingdom- Danielli's palace, at a mad pace. He's never seen his queen this weary, or troubled.
Something was tickling his ear, quite insistently.
"Rebekah," he moaned, thinking that if she was trying to wake him, there was generally a host of more mature and just-as-effective tactics for doing so.
He heard a gasp, and a stifled giggle.
And then he noticed that he wasn't kept upright by the Eastern maid's warm hands, nor his back pressed against her body. He wasn't riding a horse, he was on- dear gods, of all things great and glorious!- a comfortable bed. He wasn't hot or cold, but quite plainly comfortable. And best of all, there were no arrow shafts protruding from his body at all.
He opened his eyes, found himself looking up at the indulgent, intricately carved and painted concave ceiling of what must be another dessert palace. He turned his head, and was quite startled to find a handsome child with incredibly dark, wide eyes staring at him. The boy's hands were tightly put over his mouth, as if he feared to breathe and wake a sleeping dragon.
"I'm sorry!" the boy whispered in heavily accented Westron. His speech carried the beats of a new but promising learner of the language, "It is your ears that are strange."
Elrohir's brows furrowed. His mind was too cloudy to comprehend exactly what the boy meant. Does he mean to say that it's not his fault that he's curious because my ears are strange?
"You look angry," the child commented, reaching for a glass of water on the nightstand next to the elf's bed and offering it up, as if in peace.
Elrohir's lips quirked, and he sat up with a grunt and a wince, before accepting the precocious boy's offering. He finished the glass in a gulp, sighed and closed his eyes in momentary indulgence.
"What time might it be?" he asked the boy.
"A few hours before sunrise," the boy answered, "My mother said your sleep was long."
"And you're not sleeping at all," Elrohir pointed out mildly, "How old are you? About five years?"
"Six," the boy said, before adding in a lower tone, "in a few months… They said mother brought in an elf. I wanted to see."
"Ah," Elrohir sighed, "Yes, they brought in an elf. You are Lady Rebekah's son?"
"Rebekah is my mother's maid," replied the boy.
Elrohir frowned, quite confused. "It was Lady Rebekah who brought me, young master. If she is not your mother, than it was not your mother who brought me here."
"I'm Dorjan," the boy said with a shrug. He did not much like being confused, and decided it mattered not who brought what where, they were both there already and one of them was an elf. An elf!
"I'm Elrohir," said the Rivendell elf with a bit of a smile, extending his hand at Dorjan to shake. Nadina's son… how strange, that the boy should be so open and chatty, whereas his mother had been quite cold and detached.
Dorjan took the elf's hand with some suspicion, but returned the shake heartily. He had a light to his face that also did not resemble his mother's placid expression. Perhaps his father, Danielli, had more vivacity to her.
Elrohir cringed at the thought of the warrior Legolas pretty much murdered out in the battle field. Legolas killed this child's father, and now this child was Legolas'… how strange, that life should bring them to such places. He wondered if Dorjan even knew the circumstances behind his father's death.
"I want to speak to Rebekah," Elrohir said, "Can you find her for me, please, young prince?"
"She is not here," Dorjan replied, just before he heard footsteps outside the elf's door and jumped in surprise. "I'm not here either," he contracted Elrohir to say, before he slid underneath the startled elf's bed, just as the door opened and Rebekah entered the room.
Her lips curved in a smile at the sight of Elrohir awake and seated, and she closed the door behind her as she stepped forward and sat down next to his hand.
He watched her carefully, noted that there was something strangely changed about her. The way she stood as if she owned everything she walked upon, her face tilted upwards as in nobility, her eyes shining and blue. Or perhaps it was just the change of clothes, and the change of scenery. Sand and grime of travel diminished much of anyone's beauty, of course, although he cannot recall thinking she was any less beautiful then. She was just… changed, here. For some reason.
"We're not west," he told her.
"No," she sighed, "We're not. And don't expect an apology, my lord. We arrived here in time to aid you. And I've managed to send some soldiers to the Sang-agen already. I've also kept some of our fastest riders on hand and ready to depart with a message to our Western allies. They are ready to leave at any time, except I wasn't quite sure of what you'd want me to say."
He said nothing, feeling quite secure in her foresight. Instead, he pointed downwards, mouthing, 'I have a visitor.'
She frowned at him, before her eyes lit in understanding. She pretended to sniff at the air. "Do you smell something, my lord?"
"Not quite, my lady," he replied gravely.
"I smell a rat," she said, before leaning underneath the bed and triumphantly pulling at Dorjan's laughing, squirming body. He embraced her tightly, and planted a territorial kiss to her cheek.
Elrohir watched the play with narrowed eyes. What did all this mean? That a young prince should have such naked affection for his mother's maid? That he should speak of his mother when Nadina was not here? That Rebekah should walk this land as if she ruled it? That the old hags guarding the virtue of the princess should watch him as if he was the devil? That Rebekah quite suddenly, in retrospect, filled the descriptions of the Easterling soldiers when they spoke of Nadina?
She is the dessert…
Dark hair, clear blue eyes and golden skin. She is colored like the dessert; open blue skies, golden sands and shadows. She has a smile that can make a man believe he owns the world.
He frowned, and crossed his arms over his chest. She caught his stare, and pulled her son away from her body.
"Go on to sleep, now," 'Rebekah' told Dorjan, "You will have a long journey soon. Your very first."
"That's why I can't sleep," the boy complained, "Excited."
"Well if you don't sleep," she told him impishly, "And fall asleep in the morn just when you're all about to leave, I'll have you left behind here."
He wrinkled his nose at her, and she told him if he kept doing that, an ill wind will blow past his face and keep it that way forever. The young prince squeezed his mother's hands, before bowing formally at Elrohir and running for the door.
Nadina- as Elrohir was now certain "Rebekah" truly was – watched her son leave, before turning to face the ire of the Rivendell elf. She read his eyes, and opened her mouth to explain when his weary sigh cut her off before she could begin.
"I don't want to hear explanations," said the elf, "princesses like playing games all the time."
"You make it seem trivial," Nadina snapped.
"It's how I cope," he said wryly, although he was actually quite inexplicably profoundly annoyed. He didn't mind getting duped, really. At least the real princess is safe and his mission isn't such a failure. So what was so wrong about this picture?
I think, he thought with a nervous gulp, realizing, I've been flirting with Legolas' wife-to-be.
"You've sent soldiers to defend the Sang-age?" asked Elrohir instead, focusing on what was ironically a graver matter that was easier to speak of.
"Yes," she replied, "But not nearly enough, I think. Many of our soldiers haven't returned or recovered from the front when we fought the elves of the west, so we can only send so much to the Sang-age, especially when we need to keep soldiers for Dolores' own defenses. We might be susceptible to Morgetti's attack too, after all."
"You say your fastest riders are on hand?" asked the elf, "I suggest you and your son make for the west at once. Is that the journey you were speaking of with Dorjan just now?"
"Yes," Nadina replied, "I'm sending him away, to safety."
"You're going with him," Elrohir said flatly.
"No," she said, "Notice, my lord, your elven eyes are supposed to see best, I heard. Yet you seem to have missed that our people are headless, save for me. Dolores' King Danielli and General Nicolo are dead. The Sang-age's King Nathaniel is in the West. Our new lord Legolas is… wherever he is. The soldiers, the women, the children… they all turn to look at me. If I flee, they will feel unsafe. And abandonment tastes foul in my mouth, besides."
He tried to stare her down, into submission. The Rivendell Glare was quite formidable. They learned from the best of course, their dear father. But her mind was clearly made up, and she did not grow up in adversity with nothing to show for.
"We are Northeast, right?" Elrohir asked.
"Yes," she answered.
"Closer to Mirkwood than to Rohan," Elrohir said, and she nodded. "Good, good. At least I think Legolas is there. Do not wait for the rising of the sun. I will compose a message to the Prince. Your riders will deliver this message to Eryn Lasgalen." He paused, thoughtfully, "To Eryn Lasgalen, where Dorjan will also be deposited for safekeeping."
Her eyes flared for a quick moment, and he noticed her nervousness and hesitation.
"I thought perhaps," she said softly, "Dorjan… to your lands."
"Legolas is your husband-to-be, Nadina," Elrohir told her flatly, "It is only right that Dorjan is placed there. And besides, he is a dear friend to me, and he is a good person. Aside from that, Mirkwood is nearest. Your son will be cared for, and Legolas will send an army for the defense of Dolores and the Sang-age. He will also likely even lead the charge."
She stared at Elrohir for a long moment. "My son will be safe there, there with the elf who mercilessly killed his father?"
"Yes," Elrohir promised, restraining a wince, "Dorjan will be safe. And forces will be sent to our aid."
"If you trust this Prince," she took his hand and clutched it tightly, saying, "Then all right. I find that I can too."
He clutched back for the briefest of moments, before he pulled his hand away.
To be continued…
HELLO GUYS!
thanks so much for the c&c's. they are always, always, always welcome. c&c's press me to work, and are probably the reasons for earlier posts (because like many writers, i get excited to hear about what you think). i hope these won't seem rushed, though, and that it's still okay. so once again, because there is no legolas or aragorn in this chapter, a double-post for you! keep the reviews coming if you can, they are always helpful, and i'll see you all on the next post:) THANK YOU:)