a/n: A new installment. Please enjoy and thank you again for the helpful support and continued praise for this story. You guys are all great.
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Vegeta had been having odd dreams. Dull voids where voices murmured and infuriated him as he struggled to hear them. Flashes of Freeza's sneering face and mocking laughter knotted his stomach; Radditz' solemn face loomed before him, mouth speaking softly but no voice came forth. It was Radditz that affected him the most though he didn't understand why. As the night moved on and the saiyajin's face returned at various points through his sleep Vegeta felt himself struggling to reach him. He screamed, growled, threw his dream self toward the hairy saiyajin but he never managed to get nearer.
When he finally woke, Vegeta stiffened and gasped, staring wide eyed at his surroundings and slowly relaxed against the stone he rested on. Goku stirred beside him and Vegeta stared at the back of his head, suppressing the overwhelming desire to move down beside the third class and curl up into his side. He hated feeling so needy, but he'd be damned if the odd dreams hadn't twisted up his insides into a mangled emotional mess.
He sighed lightly in comfort when Goku rolled onto his side and nestled up against him. It saved him his dignity and pride. When he looked up again, Aragorn was making his rounds shaking and prodding sleeping people to wake them. The ranger paused beside his son with the twin elves and narrowed his eyes as pieces of the conversation they were having floated to him. When Trunks sat up Vegeta tamped on the protective anger bubbling and shook his head.
Across from him, Piccolo floated three feet from the earth, chin to his chest and meditating. He looked far more relaxed than he had for their entire stay on Middle Earth. Vegeta cocked an eyebrow in wonder.
Aragorn had neared and nodded his greeting to Vegeta when he noticed the prince was already awake. He stopped several feet to Vegeta's right, Legolas exiting the trees behind them smiled brightly and stepped forward, speaking quiet quenya to the ranger. Vegeta ignored them, not able to understand what they spoke anyway. Goku stirred, arm tightening at Vegeta's waist and the prince smirked at him. A scent wafted to him, tickling his nose and Vegeta chuffed, annoyed and intrigued at the same time.
He turned his head toward the source of the smell and breathed deeply, the scent dancing on his tongue and sparking memory banks in his brain. Vegeta paused in the next breath and stared openly at Legolas for several long minutes then turned his head and stared at Piccolo. A wide grin split Vegeta's face and he looked between the elf and Namek several more times. Mirth built in his stomach and before he had a chance to school his features and cement his control he began to laugh. Loud, barking laughter that made his sides ache, shook Goku awake and garnered him the attention of most of the warrior groups around them.
With tears rolling down his cheeks, Vegeta smirked at the surprised and annoyed looks from Piccolo as the Namek stood in confusion. Goku sat up, rubbing an eye with the heel of his hand. "What's so funny, 'Geta?"
Around them, dozens of men were intrigued for the same reasons. Vegeta grinned widely at Piccolo, raising an eyebrow slowly. The Namek narrowed his eyes, frowning deeply at whatever point Vegeta was trying to make. The saiyajin prince quickly darted his eyes toward the elf and looked pointedly at Piccolo again. Slowly, Piccolo's eye ridges rose in dawning before the shutters closed over his emotions and his blank mask fell into place.
Goku looked between the two of them, confused at their internal dialog yet again. "'Geta?"
Vegeta shook his head. "Nothing, Kakkarot."
Goku scratched his head, it was far too early after waking up to play mind games with the prince. He looked to Piccolo for answers, but Piccolo was looking down at his knees, a purple blush across the bridge of his thin nose.
Piccolo looked up, scowling ferociously at Vegeta over his blush. "Shut up, Vegeta."
The saiyajin prince grinned and stood, stretching like a happy cat in a beam of light. "I haven't said a word, Namek." He turned to Goku, offering the younger a hand up. "Come on, Kakkarot. We'll be moving on soon enough."
Goku pouted cutely and followed after Vegeta, casting a final backward glance to Piccolo in hopes of an answer.
Slowly the whole mass of men woke and gathered their belongings. Piccolo lounged by a mallorn, leaning against the large tree and scowling as hard as he could manage--without setting off his eye lasers--at the back of Vegeta's head. A blonde head soon popped out of the foliage beside him, Legolas hanging upside down from the lower limbs.
"What's the matter, vanesse?" Legolas turned his head, blinking at Piccolo.
Piccolo grunted, still glaring at Vegeta from a distance. Legolas frowned and released his hand hold on the limb, only hanging on by his legs. With one hand he pulled his hair from his face, the other he rested on Piccolo's shoulder. Piccolo looked at the pale fingers curled on his deltoid and then glanced at the elf's stricken face. "You regret what has happened."
Eyes wide, Piccolo turned to deny but Legolas was already moving back up into the canopy of the trees. "Legolas!" Piccolo called up to him, but he got no answer. Limbs a near dozen feet above him rustled and Piccolo took to the air.
He hovered near the tops and pushed through the tree limbs. He saw Legolas standing on a branch two trees to the right of the one he had been hanging from and flew gently over. Floating in place, Piccolo drifted until he was directly in front of Legolas. The elf was looking at him with head cocked to the side. Nothing betrayed the emotion in him, not even the clear and brilliant eyes that normally showed books of feeling.
"I never said that I regretted anything." Piccolo spoke quietly, intent on getting his point across without growing impatient and showing that he meant all he said.
Legolas didn't reply. He blinked calmly at Piccolo waiting for him to continue.
Piccolo fumbled for words in his mind, face set in frowning lines. When he looked up again, Legolas had moved on to another tree and he followed. This time he grasped hold of the elf by the elbow and spoke in a firmer voice. "I have to return to my world; I might die; you could; any number of things I would prefer not to think about until the time comes. But I regret nothing."
Legolas paused, prepared to speak. Piccolo hovered closer. "Nothing." A slow smile spread across the elf's aristocratic features and Piccolo grunted, smirked and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Do you remember what the twin sons of Elrond spoke yesterday?" Legolas tilted his head and looked down through the limbs to the ground far below them. Piccolo frowned, eye ridges knit as he thought back. "To fly." Legolas pressed.
Dawning spread on Piccolo's face and he grinned. He held a hand out to Legolas and as soon as the elf's hand was in his he hauled the smaller frame to his chest and blasted up through the canopy of trees into the open sky.
Legolas clung on for dear life, staring openly at the scenery around them in quiet awe. Piccolo hovered, letting him adjust to the sights and feeling of open air. Legolas smiled widely at him, a look of pure ecstasy on his face. "Amazing."
Below them, three sets of saiyajin eyes watched--one in near ecstatic amusement. The troops gathered and Aragorn rode to the small band to gather them. From their height, Piccolo and Legolas realized it was time to move. With reluctance, Piccolo flew slowly back to the earth, enjoying the tight fists entangled in his tunic when he lurched up to land on his feet.
Trunks raised a questioning eyebrow and smiled shyly at them. Not sure exactly what was going on but having a rather good idea. Elladan and Elrohir smiled brightly at their elfin friend as Legolas stepped away and smoothed his tunic.
"How was it?" Elladan beamed, eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Amazing." Legolas spoke truthfully--brilliant eyes turned to the skies.
A sly grin spread across the dark elf's features, "I could have guessed. He is rather large." Elladan laughed as Legolas' head whipped around.
"That is an unfair game, son of Elrond." Legolas narrowed his eyes and Elladan dipped his head in respect, fearing he'd gone too far. "At least I do not have to share my conquest with my brothers."
It was Legolas' turn to laugh as Elladan gaped at him and flushed pink. Beside them, both Piccolo and Trunks looked at each other and then the elves, a bead of sweat rolling down their faces.
They were saved further embarrassment as Gandalf rode foreword on Shadowfax, peering between them. He motioned for Piccolo and the Namek schooled his features before walking along side the aged wizard.
Slowly the procession of men followed them and still with a bit of distance between them, Piccolo and Gandalf began to speak of visions. "You told me early last evening that you needed to speak to me." Gandalf looked questioningly at Piccolo. Piccolo nodded once, sharply. "Then speak."
A thoughtful silence fell as Piccolo sorted through the collage of dreams. "One of the Hobbits, maybe two. I heard them screaming but couldn't see. There was a lot of smoke and heat." He looked up at the intrigued face of Gandalf. "And the smell of burning flesh."
The white wizard paled slightly, thrown by the last statement. After a minute of hard thinking on Gandalf's part, he motioned for Piccolo to continue. "A lot of them were filled with orc. Just faces or weapons. Nothing that stuck out, just battle scenes. And the largest dark rider I've scene." His voice had dropped an octave as his ebony eyes scoured the skies, as though he expected the thing to be waiting for them.
Gandalf nodded his grey head, absently petting the mane of the horse beneath him. "That I have already expected. Your visions have only cemented the fact."
Piccolo began to speak again but hesitated. Gandalf raised a thick eyebrow. "What is it?"
"The last one. It bothers me more than the others." Piccolo wouldn't look up at the wizard, only stared straight ahead. "It's Goku. Screaming, bleeding." A sour smirk twisted onto Piccolo's face. "He's a strong warrior, I know that. He's died so many times before and still come back. But that's in our world. If he dies here..." Piccolo looked over his shoulder at the saiyajin. Goku was walking with Vegeta, smiling and laughing; stealing innocent touches that Vegeta couldn't quite hide that he enjoyed.
"He has a family in our world. They've been without him more than he was there, but at least he always found a way to return." Piccolo's voice was strong, angry. He looked back at Goku again, his face stricken and voice much softer than before. "We might not see him again, not even in otherworld."
Gandalf peered sadly down at the Namek, at a loss for words of comfort. Instead, he pressed on. "Thank you, Master Namek. If I find any answers, I'll be sure to speak to you."
Piccolo grunted, his mind no longer on the conversation at hand. He stopped in his tracks, waiting for the groups to move beyond him so that he could walk with his friends. Aragorn rode past him, the ranger's smiling face falling to confusion at the closed off expression on Piccolo's face. Legolas and Gimli following closely slowed their mare and the fair elf frowned at the lost and empty look in Piccolo's eyes. Gimli pointed to Gandalf and Aragorn ahead of them and Legolas regretfully moved on, sparing a parting glance to the oblivious Piccolo.
The sound of Trunks' laughter and the matching peal of light silvery giggles passed him as the demi and twin elves moved past him. Piccolo began to walk again, just a little behind Goku and Vegeta.
Goku turned his head and smiled happily at Piccolo. There was no response from the Namek even though his dark eyes were boring into the third class's back. "Piccolo? Are you okay?"
Blinking, Piccolo looked up into Goku's worried eyes and bit back a snarl of frustration. "I'm fine, Goku." The saiyajin cocked his head to the side before accepting Piccolo's answer and turning back around to talk to Vegeta. Piccolo watched his longtime friend for a moment longer before speaking softly to himself. "Just fine."
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Lord Elrond walked through the halls, the sound of his daughter's weeping still playing heavily through his mind. He rubbed at his temples and closed his eyes, sighing heavily. Arwen had been less than happy to hear what he had to say, and saw it more than fitting to speak to him every bit that was in her heart. It hurt him, badly, to see the pain his child was going through.
As he neared his study, he hardly noticed the door ajar until he was standing just outside of it. Two familiar voices were talking softly inside. Pausing and frowning at others in what he considered his private space, he listened from the hallway.
"...marta indo. It is in my destiny to love him, no matter how long the Valor lets him stay by my side."
Elrond's eyes narrowed. Arwen was sitting in his chambers, speaking to someone who he had yet to recognize. The voice of his daughter soft and melancholy.
"If that's the way it's supposed to be, then no one can change it." Another feminine voice responded. It was Bulma. Elrond didn't need to open the door to visualize the blue haired vixen perched in the soft-cushioned oak chair, holding his daughter's hand with a determined look on her face.
The only problem he had with the two speaking in private, was that both of them were against him when the matters turned to Aragorn. Instead of growing angry and stalking into the room, Lord Elrond took a cleansing breath and turned toward the outer gardens.
Meanwhile, in his cozy quarters, Arwen was perched, tense on the end of a day bed by opened bay windows. Bulma sat beside her, a little more relaxed on the plush cushions, palm covering one of Arwen's slim hands.
"I think you should try to see it from your father's side too." Bulma spoke slowly, waiting for the outburst she knew would follow her statement.
Arwen sighed deeply and only rose one arched eyebrow. Bulma saw the family resemblance. "I have two kids of my own you know. You've seen Trunks. He's had to fight to stay alive since he was twelve. That's no life for a child." Arwen nodded her head, eyes slowly drying of their tears as Bulma continued. The change of conversation serving as a good distraction of her remorse.
"In the past he'd chase after his father, hands balled into fists, ready to prove himself." Bulma laughed at the memory and squeezed Arwen's hand. "Every time he'd leave my stomach would knot into tight little balls. I'd do everything short of counting the minutes down until he came home."
Bulma looked pointedly at Arwen, the beautiful elf had reluctant dawning on her face. "Your father isn't trying to be controlling. Where you see your life and excitement, he sees you drifting away."
It was quiet and both women gazed over their shoulders out of the high window. Arwen coughed lightly and squeezed Bulma's hand as she stood. "I believe I have some thinking to do." Arwen smiled. Bumla nodded, returning the smile and following Arwen from the study.
With a great stretch, Bulma watched the lady enter the library at the end of the corridor and turned her self around. She felt better now, finally talking to Arwen and hopefully helping both Arwen and Elrond in the process. Now, however, it was time for her to return to the shed and poke around the time machines again. Progress was moving swiftly now that the parts were reorganized.
It was shaping up to be a beautiful day. A cloudless sky and light breeze were setting the atmosphere for a really pleasant afternoon. On the breeze the smell of many blossoms blew by and Bulma turned her face into the wind and breathed deeply. She let out the breath in a contented sigh and was startled at the intense gaze of Lord Elrond boring into her.
"Good morning." Bulma tried to smile at him, but the lord's face didn't change and she felt her nerve slipping along with her smile.
Lord Elrond stood slowly, taking smooth long strides until he was standing in front of Bulma. "Did you have a pleasant chat with my daughter?"
Bulma narrowed her eyes, feeling tension settle between them. Her hackles rose in response, ready to give as well as she got. "Yes, I spoke to Arwen."
"Did she go to you, or did you seek her out?" Elrond frowned deeply.
"I heard her crying and found her." Bulma crossed her arms over her chest.
Elrond snorted. "And I trust you have undermined my authority yet again."
Blood colored Elrond's cheeks and Bulma had to take a deep breath to settle her anger. "I'll have you know Mr. Smarty-pants that I tried to make Arwen see where you're coming from."
Elrond blinked in surprise. "To see where I am coming from?"
"Yea." Bulma's voice quieted as she felt the anger melt from the elfin lord. "I told her about how hard it is to watch your children doing things that puts them in danger. The only difference between you and me is that I've had to live with watching my children go no matter how much I pleaded." Bulma graced him with a small smile. "But I guess you'll know about that soon. Won't you?"
A knowing look softened Bulma's face, Elrond was struggling to let his daughter go. She could see it. The elf released a pained sigh and Bulma pulled him into a tight hug. Elrond stiffened in surprise, the smell of roses in Bulma's hair helping to relax him and he returned her affection.
Bulma released him and smiled genially up at him. She stood on tip toe and kissed the lord's cheek, turned on her heel and entered the shed to return to her work.
Elrond watched her go, his cheek tingling and he smiled lightly at her retreating back. The woman had a way of getting under his skin, the Valor knew why, and he wasn't sure whether he cared if he knew or not anymore.
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vanesse = beauty;
marta indo = fated heart
