a/n: Just so everyone is aware. I return home soon, and with no computer. I am going to try desperately to get a hold of one somewhere and finish this. Until then, I'm going to at least have posted up through the battle of Helm's Deep, and hopefully at least a chapter or two after. That'll be roughly 2 or 3 chapters before a decidedly annoying (and probably lengthy) break from the story.
So sorry! -.-;;
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Morning found Piccolo sitting on the outer rim, archers and other would-be warriors walked by him. He had been sitting there so long they didn't even bother to stare at him or step widely around. Visions of last nights meditation danced through his head, a jumble of things that could mean nothing and everything. He hoped that Gandalf would appear again soon, maybe then he could tell the aged wizard about them and maybe get some answers. What bothered him the most out of all the mess of thoughts were the flashes of Freeza's laughing face and an echoing scream of pain that sounded horribly like Goku.
He rubbed unconsciously at the base of his bruised antenna, it had healed well overnight, after he had returned to his chambers he drank an entire pitcher of water and wound up getting three more before the night was over with. The split in his lip and cheek were nonexistent, and the few bruises he had gotten were nothing but light tingles. He thanked Dende that could still heal well enough without his ki, but then again what were bruises and cuts? But then it had taken a couple of hours instead of a few seconds.
Heaving his bulk from the bricks, Piccolo stood and stretched, not hearing the surprise from the poor boy that had been walking by who was startled badly enough to drop a quiver of arrows. Turning his head, Piccolo saw the boy shivering as he picks up the arrows and stuffs them back into the quiver in his hands. Stooping, Piccolo grips several at once in his large hands and offers them to the child. The boy looked surprised, and Piccolo tried to look less menacing.
A thick lock of muddy-brown hair falls across the boys face and Piccolo had a fleeting memory of Gohan when he was a child with heavy unruly hair. "What's your name, boy?"
The child grimaced as he heard the question, a small prick of pain in Piccolo's chest reminded him his newfound heart was all but impenetrable but to the reaction of children. "Geoff…" The boy's voice is low and quiet. "Geoff, son of Miran the smithy of Rohan."
"Well, Geoff, what are you doing with arrows?" Piccolo tried to smile, making the boy cringe, and settled for a placid look instead.
"The men in the towers asked me to bring it to them. I want to help." Geoff stuck out his chin, trying to look important.
Piccolo stood and helped the boy to his feet. "I'm sure you're father is proud of you."
Geoff smiled then, bright and wide and Piccolo felt a little better for scaring the poor kid half to death earlier. The boy nodded and slung the quiver over his shoulder, running off toward a far battlement. Piccolo watched for a minute before looking down into the open arena below him. An endless bustle of women and children and groups of men talking quietly about the coming of battle were far below him.
A peal of pleasant laughter cut through most of the noise and much of the background chatter died away as everyone looked about to see where the sound came from. Piccolo spotted its source walking tall next to Gimli. The elf looked less weary today, but there was still a haze of mourning around his shoulders.
Legolas, as though knowing he was being watched, looked directly up at Piccolo and nodded imperceptibly before continuing his chat with the son of Gloin.
Well, at least it doesn't look like he's going to throttle me for last night. Piccolo straightened and forced the pleasant tingle of reminder of just what he had done down. Then tried his best to ignore all the nagging little voices of reason away as they chattered about all the horrible implications that the one little pathetic kiss could cost him.
He felt the resting form of Kami stretch in his mind and frowned deeply, pressing the old guardian back into his corner of the mind, studiously demanding that the old fool just stay the hell out of his thoughts. Piccolo had willingly allowed in the more formidable and useful knowledge the old guardian had on tap when they had fused, but the remains were put aside for a reason. Or at least that's what he kept telling himself even when bits of information were popping up unexpectedly, It's not important, leave it alone old man!
Piccolo had a flush of relief when it felt as though the repressed memories were going to stop, but when he felt a stirring of Nail he quickly made his way through the crowds toward his rooms before he began to talk animatedly to himself. He didn't apologize as he practically tossed people from his way and was entirely oblivious that one of them had been Vegeta and that he was being stared after by a pair of flaming onyx eyes— the lithe body they were part of being barely held back by the strong arms of his lover—and another set of bright orbs that watched curiously as he stalked away.
It took far less time to get back to his chambers than it had last night, and now Piccolo was sitting on a rather uncomfortable stone bench that served as a chair in his rooms, his head in his hands. Memory clips from Kami and Nail had begun bombarding his exposed mind half way to his quarters.
Scenes of Namek in dull sunshine, the pungent smell of earth turned over as hands that were not his dug through the garden. He could even feel the small pebbles and grains of sand under his nails. Strong warrior hands busting up the dry clay, Nail's hands. He felt a smile tug at the corner of his grimacing mouth through the haze of dream, Nail had enjoyed the calm of working on the fields.
Then, he was looking at himself—as odd as it seemed—and he could tell this was from Kami. He could see himself stagger and sway, bloody and torn. Piccolo vaguely remembered this from his own memories, passing out on the Lookout after a rather vicious bout of training. What he didn't remember was Kami's panic and moving so quickly to catch him before he hit the stones. A flicker of some unknown emotion in his chest—he wasn't sure if it was from Kami's memory or his own feeling.
There was the sound of footsteps racing behind him, Piccolo felt himself tense as the memory came, but the person only stayed seated waiting. A small body pounced and there was a breathy giggle, Nail's hands came to view again and pulled a hyper Dende into his arms, no more than three years old. A warm feeling from the memory brought another smile and soft sigh through Piccolo's surprised lips.
Still on Namek, gazing out a window at the alien sky. A warm hand settled onto his shoulder and Piccolo felt himself turn and smile. He saw words form on the stranger namek's face and picked out 'Nail' from somewhere in the sentence. The face before him changed slowly and heat rose into Piccolo's face as he realized what this memory was. The stranger gripped him/Nail and pulled him/Nail into a strong embrace, kissing the tip of one ear and then his/Nail's neck. His/Nail's hands roamed, resting one on a hip, the other gripping the material of the stranger's robes. A smoldering look bored into his/Nail's... and Piccolo pushed the memory away, not wanting to see something so personal.
A field filled with swaying timothy grass, the echo of the waterfall behind him. My own memory? A familiar ki came close and sat down beside him. He didn't turn his head to acknowledge the saiyajin half-breed until he heard Gohan's voice call to him. The boy was no longer, sitting a full grown man and smiling shyly as he held a bundle out to Piccolo to hold. Nervousness clutched his chest again, as it had then, and he saw himself take the child into his large hands, Gohan's daughter yawned up at him from her blankets only weeks old. He smiled down at her, and the girl gurgled, clenching one chubby hand reaching for him. Panic as the infant wiggled, afraid he would hurt her, drop her…love her. Gohan's hand rested on his shoulder. 'I trust you, Piccolo.' He smiled up at him, feeling so much emotion he had never felt and he bent over the bundle in his hands. He stared into the girls large eyes and wished her everything, anything her heart ever wanted; and Pan cooed up at him, as though she understood.
Piccolo blinked as the memories stopped suddenly, and he thought of Pan again. Remembered watching the girl as she started to chatter in baby talk, how Gohan had told her to leave Piccolo alone so he could meditate only for Piccolo to scowl at him and listen as the girl went on and on in her own language. Smiled to himself as she took her first steps and fell to her bottom, could see the scowl on her little face as she pulled herself up again…just like her father.
He played back pieces of the other memories, feeling out the theme between them and frowned at his hands that now rested loosely in his lap. To feel, to touch—and enjoy it, understanding and compassion and so many forms of love and like and lust it made his head swim. But that was the whole point wasn't it? To feel, and get lost in it, even if it was foolish and simple—primal even. To have a moment is better than to have none.
"I get it old man." Piccolo spoke quietly, rubbing at the base of his antennae with his thumbs. A shuddering sigh echoed across his room, and Piccolo nodded to himself. If he was going to allow himself to feel, to touch, to understand…he'd have to have someone willing enough to recognize how out of character and hard the task would be. In the back of his mind he hoped to the heavens that Legolas would—and in a region far from Middle Earth, Kami smiled.
---
It had taken a total of twenty minutes to calm Vegeta down enough so that Goku would release him knowing the Ouji wasn't going to track the Namek down and kill him. Now, the two sat with Gimli and Legolas at a table, eating and making light conversation.
Goku for his part tried to keep from straying and asking how the elf was feeling. It was his experience that whenever something bad happened you didn't always want to talk about it right away, and if Legolas wanted to talk, he'd find someone himself. So for now, Goku remained being polite and listening attentively, just in case the elf decided he needed an ear to bend and was just looking for someone to listen.
"It is far too dreary a day to sit out." Gimli was gazing up into the sky, thick with heavy clouds that looked ready to pop.
Vegeta grunted, rather mellow today considering the Piccolo incident was passed over. "It will rain before the nights out." Gimli nodded, agreeing entirely.
Goku sniffed the air, the moisture so thick he knew it was true as well. He glanced over to Legolas and saw the elf was gazing off into the distance, entranced in one thing or another. "What do you think, Legolas?"
The elf blinked and turned back to them. "It is already starting to rain on the plains, but it won't reach here for some time. The air seems to be still, as though the Valar itself is holding its breath."
They all looked at him oddly, Gimli with his your-just-a-crazy-elf look for a moment before a hailing call from the tower caught their attention. "Open the gate! A rider!"
Goku scratched the back of his head, wondering why the commotion, but Legolas jumped to his feet as though he were struck and began to race toward the opening doors. Startled, Goku got to his feet as well and Vegeta languidly got to his own to follow the younger saiyajin as he trailed the elf.
The murmur of the crowds as they got wind of something particularly juicy was escalating the closer they got, and Goku arrived at the head of the stairs in time to see Aragorn blast through the heavy oak doors. Vegeta grinned muttering a quiet, 'Impressive.'
Goku watched as Legolas nearly glided down the remaining stairs and stood before the Ranger. There was a struggling ki above him, and Goku looked up at the overlay there and saw Piccolo tense as he watched Legolas and Aragorn, no doubt drawn by the noise of the crowd.
Turning back to the two who now had the riveted attention of the entire entourage, Goku smiled lightly as Legolas pulled something from his pocket and handed it to the ranger. They paused a moment before the saiyajin heard a strained sentence that the elf was trying to make sound lighthearted. "You're late."
When the two embraced roughly, the ki above him stuttered, and Goku looked to his friend in shock but Piccolo was no longer looking down at the scene below him, instead was peering into the sky. Goku could see the Namek clench his fists and thought the sky above darkened but was sure it was only a trick of the brain. In a flurry, Piccolo turned on his heel and soon disappeared as he headed back from where he came.
Scratching his head, Goku frowned down at Vegeta but the saiyajin prince was not looking at him, instead his usually scowling face was lax and he dropped his eyes from the high wall and looked at Legolas and Aragorn, now walking toward Théoden, and a small sigh huffed through his nose.
"This won't be good." Vegeta then looked up at Goku as though he hadn't spoken aloud and gestured that they follow the two disappearing Middle Earth warriors and find out what exactly was going on.
---
The ride the following morning was a bit harder than the first day for Mirai. Not only was he stiff and sore from the riding the day before, but he also had the mornings surprise wake-up constantly peeking back up into his thoughts.
It had certainly been a surprise. One moment Trunks was warm and comfortable, somewhere between sleep and consciousness and was quite content, nuzzling his face deeper into the warmth in front of him. That in itself would have been fine—even though his mind wondered idly what exactly would be warm in the middle of nowhere for him to snuggle to—but then just as he ignored it and started to drift off again, the warmth decided to snigger. It was then, that embarrassment ensued, followed by some rather red-faced moments.
Mirai stiffened, raising his head and blanched to see a pair of steel grey eyes staring down at him in amusement. Mouth gaping as he recognized the charming face, he tried to backpedal away only to roll over and thump soundly into a snoozing Elladan—who on contact blinked and smiled in a lazy 'I know I'm sexy' kind of way.
With a moment of near panic, Trunks finally leapt to his feet, stumbling back a pace before catching himself and looked between the two twins who only gazed idly back at him from their reclined positions on the earth.
"Wha…I, huh?" Trunks resisted the urge to scratch his head and settled for a deep cleansing breath before finger combing his hair from his face. After another long moment of bemused smiles from the twins at his feet Trunks finally grinned back and went to his satchel in search for breakfast.
Things settled for a time as they ate, and then the recollection of just how it was that Trunks wound up tucked between the beautiful elfin twins came back to him and his embarrassment returned.
Now, on the move again, Mirai tried not to groan as his thighs and hips creaked and ached from horseback. He was sure if he had to suffer the riding for another solid day he'd sooner leave the beast in a field and run ahead if they refused him to fly.
And it went, quiet and contemplative in their own heads well into noon without a single thing except the passing of land to mark their travel. The sun was well hidden under a thick layer of clouds for the better part of the day and when they darkened Mirai grimaced, waiting for the rain he could feel prickling his skin.
He was about to ask what they would do when it began to pour, but Elladan suddenly pulled up on his reigns and looked into the distance, holding out a hand to his brother who rode quickly to his side.
"Mani um lle elei?" Elrohir spoke quietly, gazing off into the distance trying to find what made his brother pause. Trunks, now ahead, had finally gotten his horse to stop and was trying to turn his mount to sidle up to them.
Elladan nodded his head and pointed. "Eller. Da estolada." He paused as his keen vision scanned. His brother soon grunted lightly as he caught sight.
"Vi quo minque." Elrohir mumbled to himself. He narrowed his eyes and a small smile tipped the corners of his lips. "Riders of Rohan."
Finally giving up and fully irritated when his horse began to graze, Trunks called over to them. "What's going on?"
Elladan nickered at Trunks' horse and the animal straightened and trotted happily over to them. Trunks gave it a withering look before looking pointedly between the twins waiting for an answer.
"There is a camp in the distance, several tents set up." Elrohir looked up into the sky suddenly and frowned. "Waiting out the storm."
Mirai nodded, he had already known the rains were coming though he had yet to feel a single drop. "What are we going to do?"
Elladan smiled broadly at him, "Asking for a temporary shelter of course." Before Elrohir or Trunks could refute his idea, Elladan quickly took off. Elrohir rolled his eyes and soon followed after his brother. Trunks glared down at his horse that had yet to take a step.
"Animal, if you don't move I'll cook you for dinner." Growled Trunks. Whether it was the threat or the tone that shocked the animal, it had the desired effect and with a small help, Trunks clung to the mane as it sped off toward the disappearing elves.
---
It was falling dark, whether the storm clouds were the cause or the ending of the day, Piccolo wasn't sure. As a matter of fact, he wasn't sure of much at the moment except the bubbling of anger just under his skin. The anger ate at him like acid, but instead of lashing out at those around him, Piccolo wandered aimlessly through the alleyways and paths of Helm's Deep. It would do no good to beat someone else to a pulp when the person he was angry with was himself.
Fuming silently, he realized that people were literally running from his rampage as he scowled deeply. The muscles of his face were twitching and aching from the continual fuming, and the more they twinged the angrier he got.
After turning and stalking down a small set of narrow steps, Piccolo nearly collided with a small group of boys all huddled together talking quietly. As soon as his presence was known the chattering died away as they all gaped at him. He tried not to sneer at them but it didn't make much difference as they all cringed back from him anyway. They probably would have run but they were all in a decent sized room and the only entrance and exit was blocked by the hulking form of the Namek.
Tentatively a small boy made his way to the front. Piccolo recognized him and tamped down on his anger as best he could. Geoff smiled weakly up at him. "Are you alright Mr. Piccolo?"
The anger chipped, cracked and began to fall uselessly at his feet. Piccolo smiled a genuine small smile and nodded. "Yea, kid. I'm fine." Geoff grinned up at him and nodded to his friends around him.
It was then that Piccolo noticed that this pack of children, barely strong enough to hold a sword let alone use one, were entirely bedecked in a warriors gear down to the wide leather belts and tin tipped boots. Pointing down at the sword on the boy's hip that was dragging lightly on the floor, Piccolo quirked an eyebrow and asked "What are you doing with those?"
Geoff paled lightly and gripped the hilt in one small hand. "We're fighting the orc." The boy's lip trembled lightly and Piccolo frowned deeply.
"Why would a boy fight orc?"
Another child, looking older than the rest but still no more than twelve spoke quietly from the back. "By order of the King." Piccolo held the boy's gaze until he the child finally quailed and looked down at his booted feet. In a quiet whisper he continued. "Did you not hear? The war is coming."
Straightening and trying not to look thrown, Piccolo looked out across them. A few toward the back looked on the verge or panic, their eyes swimming in unshed tears. Others looked pale and withdrawn, while still a select few had squared their narrow shoulders and looked ready to take that first blow right on the chin.
After a solid scrutinizing minute that had all of the boys in the room squirming, Piccolo 'hmphed' and crossed his arms over his chest. "Do any of you know how to use those?" Piccolo jabbed his finger in the direction of the weapons hanging from the nearest boy's belt. There was a sea of shaking heads and Piccolo was ready to blast King Théoden and half of the morons in Helm's Deep for dressing boys to play their war games. After thinking critically, Piccolo nodded to himself and looked across the faces of worried youth. "Alright, I think I can help you learn a few simple things. If nothing else you can defend yourselves."
There was an almost excited chittering around him and Piccolo sighed through his nose before taking a sword from a nearby set of Armor and called their attention. If the feeling in the back of his mind was any indicator, he didn't have a whole lot of time.
He spent nearly an hour, barely hearing the blaring of a far off horn and the excitement from the people above and around them. The elves that came, the flustered women who cried while hugging their husbands and sons, and a set of horror filled crystalline eyes that watched him work with the children were all unbidden. All that mattered to one Piccolo Diahmao Jr. was the training of boys, and to his eyes all of them that smiled at him did so with the face of a certain saiyajin child.
---
On a balcony above the enclosed room, three sets of eyes gazed down at the small pack of children and one towering Namek. One set friendly and familiar smiled down at his friend, unwieldy raven hair sticking off of his head in every direction. "It's amazing how good he is with kids." Goku beamed, watching the severe patience that Piccolo was showing to the boys he was training.
A nod of silver-blonde hair beside him and Haldir of Lorien's grim face smoothed a fraction. He looked over at the other, flaxen hair obscuring the marchwarden's view of Legolas' face. "I would not have pegged him as a fatherly type." Haldir's voice was softly lilted with the sylvan tongue.
Goku nodded beside him. "He wouldn't admit it, but I think he likes teaching."
Unnoticed by the others beside him, Legolas paled as he watched the Namek move through a set of moves and pause to help one of the smaller children with his stance. Flashes of memory he had repressed tried to resurface and he let them as his stomach knotted painfully.
There was a bit of suppressed laughter and he glanced at Goku, the saiyajin still looking happily down at his friend. "Out of everything on the earth, I think kids are going to be the death of him." Haldir spared a small grin and nod. Neither noticing as Legolas clutched the railing and swallowed thickly at the lump in his throat.
"Kakkarot!"
The saiyajin's head turned and at the end of the walkway was an anxious looking Vegeta. Before Goku could open his mouth to ask what was going on, the Ouji held up a hand and grinned at him. "They're coming."
"Who—" Goku frowned but was cut off.
"Those orc. Can't you smell them?" Vegeta smirked. "I'm just in the mood for a little battle."
Haldir narrowed his eyes and scowled at the eagerness that suddenly filled both saiyajin and instead turned and looked out across the plains. His keen elf eyes picking up on the masses of orc and Urak-hai that were moving in the distance. Before he could run to tell Aragorn, the cry went up along the wall and the world was set into motion. Haldir leapt to action, headed for the battlements and Aragorn, Legolas at his heels.
Below them, Piccolo looked up and saw Goku and Vegeta talking animatedly, well Goku talking and Vegeta listening. Before long a uniform cry came to them and the boys around him all paled, shaking. It was time…
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Mani um lle elei? : what do you see?
Eller. Da estolada. : there. A camp.
Vi quo minque. : ten or eleven
