Two days later, as faded morning light pushed through the thick cloud cover, Piccolo groaned and rolled over, then off of his cot and onto the hard floor. He pushed himself up with one arm and stared at the cold tile below him in wonder. Where...?
Standing slowly, Piccolo remembered Trunks. That explains the how. There was no one in his room, and the only thing that proved someone had been there was half an eaten pear.
He stretched his shoulders and he ducked under the doorway. A large sitting room sat before him, also empty. A pitcher of water and bowl of fruit and bread sat on a table, Piccolo went to it and took a heavy draught straight from the pitcher's lip. He set it down and moved out of the darkness of the room and into the light. A guard outside the quarters came to with a start.
"Hold!"
Piccolo looked at him queerly and tried to move past until a spear slapped across his chest, the tip pointed under his chin. He looked slowly down at the guard, the man held his gaze. "I said hold, creature."
"What do you want?"
The guard seemed to ignore him. "How did you get here?"
Raising a brow, Piccolo answered him truthfully. "I don't remember."
"Liar." The man growled, pressing his blade closer. "How did you get into that room? I've been standing here for hours and no one has gone in but Mithrandir and his guest."
Piccolo sneered, lip curling high over his fangs. He was getting sick of the byplay, he had just woken up from greivous injury and the last thing he wanted to deal with was an annoying man with a Napoleon complex.
"Stop!" A familiar voice called. Piccolo turned his head, growling slightly when the tip of the blade sliced into his flesh. Gandalf appeared from a set of stairs to the right, white robes billowing. He knocked the guards spear away when he reached them and glowered. "What are you doing, you fool?"
The guard looked stricken. "I am doing as you've asked, Mithrandir. I am guarding the wounded warrior in your chambers."
Piccolo snorted and the guard shot him a dirty look. Gandalf sighed deeply, "This is the wounded warrior."
"Sir?"
"How is it that a man has walked out of the room, when no man has entered?" Gandalf gave him a withering look and touched the scratch on Piccolo's neck. "Hmm."
"Where's Trunks?" Piccolo asked, eyes trailing the large white city around him. He barely remembered climbing all of those hundreds of stairs.
"He is having breakfast with Pippin." Gandalf smiled slightly. "Come, you should join them. They will be happy to see you."
They moved past the distressed guard without another thought and toward the soldiers mess.
Piccolo gathered his fair share of attention. A good handful of men and women had seen the alien being helped up into the city two days ago. Those they told the tale to had scoffed, especially when the great demon they described did not appear again in the morning light. Now it seemed word was spreading again.
Pippin was overjoyed at Piccolo's appearance. He jumped from his seat and barreled into the Namek's legs then let go with a guilty look before returning to his seat. Mirai stood, relief etched on his face.
"Good to see you up." He motioned a chair and Piccolo sat, ignoring the murmuring from the tables around them. Miria leaned close to him, face fallen serious. "There are orc troops moving in. I've been trying to keep a lookout for Dad and Goku, but they haven't come yet."
"Orc troops." Piccolo sighed deeply. "When will they get here?"
"Soon." Trunks popped a hunk of beef into his mouth and chewed. "I hope you're feeling better."
"That many?"
"Yea."
Across from them, Pippin paled. He knew all of what Trunks was telling Piccolo. The demi-saiyajin had given Gandalf updates every morning and late afternoon. The only thing that kept the Hobbit from complete panic was that Trunks had felt some familiar ki to the northwest and after checking, told Gandalf that Theoden and the others were halfway to Gondor.
Pippin's head snapped up as he remembered something important Piccolo had missed. "Faramir is very hurt."
Piccolo paused in his conversation with Trunks to look hard at Pippin. "Faramir?"
"Yes," Pippin swallowed hard. "His father sent him back into the fight after he told him he wished he was dead."
Piccolo's frown deepened. "When was this?"
"Not long ago. Quarter hour at least. He's still alive, but Denethor acts like he has already passed." Pippin looked at his lap. He liked Lord Faramir, had then sworn allegiance to his father and now almost wished he hadn't. The Gondorian Steward was growing crazy.
They were sitting in contemplative silence when the up cry from the front wall woke them. Men from all tables leapt to their feet in action and the whole of the city was blurry with movement within moments.
Pippin ran to the Citadel where his honor was bound. Piccolo and Mirai followed Gandalf down to the main gates. Piccolo stiffened as he stood on the wall. Millions of orc lay below, trolls and other great horned beasts looming high and large with them. He turned his stony face to Mirai who looked at him with his father's warrior eyes. "That's a lot of orc."
Mirai nodded, looking out along the wall. Around and behind them men began to shoot arrows and catapult great slabs of rock into the hordes of beasts at Gandalf's orders. "What do we do?"
The young prince's question was answered not a moment later as the Nazgul lurched low and hard, bowling over men with their feet and wings; snapping some up in the claws and hurtling them back into the city.
Without a word, both Z warriors were in the sky with eyes trained on one ugly beast or another. Ki flashed out of fingertips, grazing the amazingly agile beasts and making them hiss in anger. The shrill screeches razored into Piccolo's head. He punched one of the riders in the chest, the bones caving in under the pressure and blowing it from its perch. The Nazgul turned its great head to snap at him, but Piccolo gripped it by the jaw and wrenched until the creature was snapped from the air and flailing at the Namek's mercy.
Below them, some orc towers crumpled while others met the high walls to spill their evil seed over the stones. A great battering ram emerged from the orc throng as though it were spelled there. Mirai watched it move toward the high arched gates with a sense of forebodding. He turned back to the flying beasts around him, trying to get clear shots so that he would not destroy the city below and around him. An alarmed cry reached him at the same moment the iron gates groaned and shivered; the orc had reached the gates with their giant ram and were hellbent on busting through.
Mirai aimed a palm down at the massive construction. He prepared to release it, only to have it knocked far from course as a Nazgul battered into him from behind. He spun through the air and caught himself in time to see the large jaws open and rows of needled teeth close in near him. He caught the jaws and held them open even as the razor-like teeth sliced viciously through the flesh of his palms and forearms. He grunted, pushing his energy out and jumped into supersaiyajin. The creature tried to back away as the roiling heat filled its mouth and seared its lungs, but Mirai held it steadfast even as his fingers ran slick with blood. With a great bellow and huge heaving of muscle, the jaw of the beast wrenched free and rained black blood on the men below.
As the creature fell from the earth and crushed dozens of orc as it impacted the earth, Trunks saw the legions pouring hard toward the gate and pushing with their might. They were going to need help if they wanted to keep the beasts out. He looked skeptically toward Piccolo as he wrestled with another of the flying creatures. They could use their ki to clean up the orc quickly, but it would destroy the earth as well. Back on their earth, a decision like that could be made in seconds but it was their earth, and if the damage was ever very bad they always had the Dragon balls to fall back on. It wasn't their decision this time.
Then, as though some unearthly being heard his thoughts, a great cry went up at the east wall and he turned to see plumes of dust rising high and hard in the air. The Rohorrim were coming.
Bulma sat heavily in her chambers. The great halls were empty, bereft of every being that ever lay within. Glorfindel had gone on Elrond's orders, and with them he brought every elf under the roofs with him except for the Lord himself and the Lady Arwen. Bulma didn't mind the quiet, nor having to retrieve things for herselfthough that was a bit akward now and then since she didn't know where everything was.
She had spent the last week by herself as the elves around her gathered themselves together quietly. As solemn as the whole situations seemed, she didn't see on elf upset by whatever it was that was forcing them to leave their home. If she had been the one told to leave her house, she would have thrown a screaming fit and wept the entire time she was leaving. Mostly, Bulma wished for company and to know what was happening; with the elves, with Vegeta and Goku, and with the war. She always hated waiting for news.
Tired of being lonely and thinking far too much to be good for her, Bulma stood with a huff and entered the silent hall. Her footfalls sounded abnormally loud in the overbearing quiet. Not for the first time did she wish she had a discman with her. That perked her interest, so with a turn of the heel she quickly made her way toward the sheds where two complete time machines were setting.
Humming happily, she popped open the storage compartment of Mirai's time machine and began to riffle through the odds and ends inside. There were a few capsules, most of which were labeled from the items he brought from home. Clothing, photos, etc. The one that piqued Bulma's curiousity ws the one marked 'miscellaneous'. She popped it open and carefully opened the box that came out. Inside were some things she recognized, some she didn't. The wedding band Vegeta had given to her, her mothers favorite necklace, Vegeta's only journal written entirely in saiyago. The Vegeta from her time had one as well, but she had only touched it once to move it, not even bothering to peek, and he had caught her touching it. It had been one of the few times she had seen him so mad he couldn't speak. He glared, opened and closed his mouth several times and turned a shade of red so deep he looked purple before he snatched if from her hands and stormed from the room. She didn't know where he put it.
There were a few small things that she didn't recognize. The most curious of them were a carefully folded gi with a sensei's symbol she didn't recognize and a piece of broken concrete. Bulma moved them both slowly and smiled. There beneath the gi was a discman and several cd's.
She flipped around the cases, her smile faltering a little. Every one of them were slow, classical tunes. Bulma opened them to look just in case, but that was exactly what was in them. Shrugging she placed one in the player anyway, then fiddled with the wiring and connected it from headset to the speaker system in Mirai's machine. Slowly, sweet panpipe music began to filter out of the speakers and fill the cramped room.
Bulma smiled as the sweet melody calmed her. She sat back and closed her eyes as she listened. She hadn't heard music for quite some time now and even though it wasn't exactly something she was used to listening to, it was really very nice.
In his study two corridors down, Lord Elrond stared curiously at his closed doorway before he opened it and peeked out. A lilting kind of lullaby was playing that he had never heard before. So, with his curiosity piqued he followed it down the hallways wondering who could possibly have stayed to make the music.
It was with mild surprise and a lot of confusion that he found Bulma sitting beside one of the open time machines. The blue haired vixen motioned to him and smiled as he sat beside her with brows furrowed.
"Where is that coming from? I don't see anyone here but you and I." Elrond tilted his head, a light smile curling his lips as the melody continued.
"It's playing in there," Bulma pointed to the compact disc player on the floor of the machine.
Elrond picked it up, it was another of the lady's complicated contraptions made from a material he had never seen in his life. His thumb hit a button on the side and the cover popped open. He jumped, startled as the music cut off quickly and looked guiltily at Bulma. "Forgive me, I did not mean to break it."
Bulma's tinkling laugh reassured him as she took the player from his hands. "It's not broken. Look," She pulled the cd from inside and showed him the shiny surface. "The music is recorded on this side. Like an orchestra that plays the same songs over and over on this disc. When you put it here and close it," She popped the disc back inside and closed the cover. Immediately the music began to play again. "A little laser inside plays the music that's recorded."
Elrond nodded slowly. "So these others," he touched the other discs that lay on the floor, "are other orchestra's caught in these...discs?"
Not knowing how else to explain it, Bulma nodded.
"Then they are trapped there?" Elrond gave the woman an incredulous look.
Bulma laughed again and shook her head. "No! No, they played their music, and the music is stuck. Kind of." She scratched her head. "It's kind of hard to explain."
Elrond nodded and sat back. He still didn't understand, but he doubted he would any better if the woman explained it technically to him. So instead, he simply enjoyed the music that played.
When the elf closed his eyes and smiled, Bulma couldn't help but stare at him. He looked at peace, which made her happy. Ever since the elves had leftand for days beforehe looked about ready to frazzle. Several times when she would watch him sigh deeply and stare out one of the windows she wanted to something to take his mind away from his trouble, at least for a while. Now it looked like she had found the outlet.
The song ended and the elfin lord sighed, this time it wasn't remorseful. "Would you like to listen to something else?" Bulma asked, flipping through the cd's. Elrond nodded, eyes still closed. With a smile, Bulma selected a disc of Beethoven and set it to play.
Elrond's eyes opened and he looked at her intrigued. "What is this?"
"It's the piano."
"Piano?" Elrond tilted his head toward the music while still looking at Bulma.
"Yes, it's an instrument." Bulma smiled as the tempo slowed and Elrond closed his eyes. "Beautiful isn't it?"
The lord nodded and reclined his position until he leaned against the machine beside Bulma. His warm scent swarmed over her and Bulma inhaled deeply. She still remembered the kiss from days ago though nothing else had come of it since. Unconsciously she leaned toward him until their shoulders touched.
Heart pounding in her chest she slowly tilted her head until it rested on his shoulder. Elrond didn't move and slowly she calmed, feeling a little giddy that she had her head on his shoulder. A moment later, Elrond shifted and she mourned that she would probably have to sit up but his head turned and his chin rested on her head while he carefully took her hand in his.
Bulma smiled and closed her eyes to the music, feeling extremely happy and far from the blah mood she had been in earlier. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata played on...
Piccolo and Mirai hovered over the rest, watching the melee of battle below. The Nazgul had been reduced to three and these had run for fear of their own deaths. Theoden's men had just arrived, to arms and killing against all odds. The orcs were pouring over the high walls and destroying those that crossed their paths.
High in the citadel, Piccolo barely made out the panicked cries of one Peregrin Took. He took off without thinking about it, motioning for Trunks to stay behind. He found the Hobbit running through the streets, Gandalf on his heels.
Piccolo landed beside them just as they entered Citadel gates. "What's going on?"
Pippin did not stop to answer, only hurried them forward with wide wet eyes and fast feet. Gandalf is the one that answered him, "Denethor is in the burial chamber with his son...evil things are afoot."
The guard Beregon stood outside the heavy oaken doors at the end of the chamber. He saw Gandalf and relief flooded his face. "Mithrandir! He is inside and going mad!"
The smell of kerosene reaked out of the entry and curdled the air. Inside, Denethor stood over his son with demented eyes and weeping over his death. Pippin grasped Piccolo's gi, "You have to help!"
"Halt, Gandalf!" Denethor shouted, arms splayed and dripping. "You defile the sacred chamber of the kings by coming here to stop such a noble thing."
"Noble thing indeed, to murder your son while he still breathes." Gandalf started forward but stopped abruptly as the steward tipped a lantern of burning oil until two bright flames dripped from its lip and onto the pile of wood and rags. Much to the others relief the flames died in their fall and did not light the pyre.
"He is dead!" Denethor shouted, face contorting. "Dead as we all are. Fighting a war that cannot be won."
"He is alive, Denethor, and you would only slay him to save your conscience." Gandalf thundered, stepping forward again.
The man's hand tightened on the lap and a moment later the oil fell onto the wood and lit the kerosene aflame.
"No!" Pippin ran forward, easily avoiding Denethor's limbs and slapped out the flames around Faramir's head with his palms.
Piccolo rushed to aid the Hobbit while Beregon distracted the steward. Bending through the flames, the Namek braced Faramir's shoulders and picked him out of the fire with arms under his neck and knees.
"Quickly, bring him to the House of Healing." Gandalf ushered them to the door, Pippin leading the way.
Denethor stood on the pyre, fire quickly engulfing him. Without a word, the man frowned deeply and bowed to the aged wizard, a distasteful curl on his lip before he lay down amongst the flames.
Gandalf pushed the others through the door and shut it tightly. The others ran for the Healing rooms while Gandalf leaned against the oak, the lines of his face creased deep with thought and sadness. From inside Denethor screamed as the flames began to eat at his flesh but before long the scream had finished and only the great roaring of the fire could be heard.
Then Gandalf shook his head, remembering only too well that a war was being fought just outside the citadel and he took up his staff and left.
Piccolo lay Lord Faramir on the crisp sheets of the Healing bed. The man had a great fever, large beads of sweat pouring from his temples and forehead. He had a hole punched through his shoulder and another between two of his ribs. They were both seeping blood.
The healers gave Piccolo a wide berth when they saw his load, then quickly ushered him away when Faramir was lain down. They were fast and efficient as they peeled the old cloth away and bound his injuries.
With nothing there to do, Piccolo returned outside and growled in frustration as he saw hordes of orc come running up and out from the lower levels. He barreled into them with his fists and feet.
Flashes of ki came from both sides of him, and Piccolo looked on confused until he recognized Vegeta far to the west blowing up oleophants. That was good news, it meant the others were there and with the greater forces, maybe they could save the middle earth men after all.
To his immense awe, a great wave of transparent men rushed up and over the lip of the nearest wall. Piccolo shot a beam of ki at them, totally taken off guard and feeling his skin bead with gooseflesh. The energy moved through them all and wound up blowing a hole in the wall behind them all the size of a grapefruit.
Their heads turned collectively toward him and a fat bead of sweat ran down Piccolo's temple. They turned away from him a second later, however, and began to tear apart the orc that came stampeding up into the higher levels.
Piccolo took to the skies and watched them as they poured over each Urak-hai like liquid. Still creeped out, but satisfied that the ghosts were on his side, Piccolo flew off toward Vegeta and Goku.
He didn't manage to get to them.
A streak far from the east blew past men of Middle Earth, stopping directly behind two preoccupied saiyajins. A tight, white fist connected with Vegeta's back, pushing him violently into Goku. They flew through the air and into the mountain face beside the city, causing rubble to fall in a great clutter and crack the earth. Piccolo paused, snarling as he glared at Freeza.
The icejin lord laughed as the saiyajins picked themselves out of the shale and glared up at him.
"Freeza." Goku's voice bellowed, deep and biting. The Fellowship stopped to look up at the name, hearing it so often but never knowing whom it belonged to.
Vegeta snarled and drove at him, jumping automatically into supersaiyajin before he even made it halfway to Freeza. His fist hit empty air, but he spun and kicked the icejin lord in the chest where he reappeared.
"Vegeta, wait!" Goku called, quickly coming up to the prince, jumping into super when he stopped beside him. "We can't do this here, there are too many people who will get hurt."
"Fine." Vegeta spat, eyes glued to Freeza as the evil overlord came barreling back at them. He spun in the air and flew off toward the Bay of Belfalas, luring Freeza into the open sea.
Behind Vegeta and Freeza, Goku took off to follow. The third class saiyajin caught sight of Piccolo where the Namek stayed hovering and he nodded to him before he turned into a blurred dot in the distance.
Below, the men of middle earth were slowly gaining the upper hand and there mingled in with them stood Mirai. Piccolo quickly landed next to him, hurling an orc into its companions. It gave him a quick moment to gain Trunks' entire attention. "Freeza was here."
The demi stopped dead. "When?"
"Just now. Your father and Goku are leading him away from here." Piccolo nodded in the direction they had gone, the last of their vapor trails petering out in the skyline.
Trunks nodded, leaping into supersaiyajin. Piccolo backed up a pace but stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Mirai looked back at him with furrowed brows and followed the Namek's gaze to the right. His eyes fell on to identical elves and he relaxed until both feet were back on the earth.
Piccolo let him go and turned away, giving the young prince time by attacking the Urak-hai and driving them back.
Elladan and Elrohir gave him a sly grin and finished off the beasts they had been fighting. Mirai grinned at them, then glanced up at the sky where his father had gone. Elladan crushed him in a tight hug before releasing him and letting his brother attack the saiyajin.
"It is good to see you well." Elladan grinned.
"The same here." Trunks gave them a tight lipped smile.
Elrohirever the intuitive onepushed a lock of hair from Mirai's face and held the side of his neck. "You have much to do." Trunks nodded. Elrohir graced him with a small smile and kissed his cheek before releasing him. He drew his blade and motioned to his brother. "Go then. We will see you when all of this is over."
Trunks nodded and accepted a kiss from the other elf before returning their affection. "Be careful."
The twins nodded and shooed him away, spinning back into the throng of fighting as though they had never stopped.
Mirai watched them disappear, then jumped to the sky and followed after his father.
"Another world, another gruesome defeat." Freeza called, grinning widely.
Vegeta snorted. "It seems to me you were the one who was defeated. And on two worlds..."
The icejin sneered and dove forward, a flurry of fists avoided by Vegeta before one finally connected to his jaw. The Ouji flew backward ten feet before snapping back and driving his foot into Freeza's chest.
Goku came to a stop beside the prince, eyes staring off at Freeza who had caught his fall and was coming back at them.
"What's the plan?"
"We kill him, Kakkarot." Vegeta snapped, hands balling into tight fists as the icejin lord grew closer.
"That's not what I meant." Goku snapped back. The tension of the situation was not lost on him. Freeza had gotten stronger, faster. The only thing they could really do was sit back and test the evil creature's limits. Then pray that they the strength and will to kill him.
A light flicked on in Goku's head. Freeza was still coming on hard but was still a moment away. "Vegeta, Freeza is still dead."
"What are you talking about, Kakkarot?"
"If we can defeat him again, he'll be gone for good." Goku smirked, hands balling into fists.
One of Vegeta's eyebrows rose and a sick smile curled onto his face. In a streak of light, he met Freeza head on. Blows were blocked, both of them fading in and out as they moved with a speed and accuracy most tacticians could drool over.
They grappled, catching each other's fists and grunting as they strained against the other. Sweat beaded along Vegeta's forehead and fury brewed in his stomach as Freeza continued to match him and slowly best him. The Icejin grinned, all malice and teeth, as slowly Vegeta's wrists bent. "Face it Vegeta, you could never beat me. Not then, and not now."
Vegeta flushed in anger, his ki flexing and sparking as bright yellow swirls of light engulfed him. Freeza laughed at the prince as he struggled. He could see the familiar temper just waiting to burst out of the irate saiyajin. He held Vegeta steady, thick tail whipping behind him and cracking the air.
With a harsh bellow, Vegeta heaved, jerking the Icejin along with him. No matter how he pulled Freeza was never loosed. He grit his teeth and kicked, then howled in frustration. Freeza had trapped his foot between his knees and the only thing he had left to fight him with was the one free leg.
Freeza began to laugh, finding the Ouji's predicament highly amusing. He began to snap his tail in the air around his body while giving Vegeta a knowing grin. Vegeta gnashed his teeth, knowing what was coming. The thick appendage snapped around and slashed across Vegeta's face with a sound clap. Crimson tinted saliva trailed Vegeta's chin when he snapped his head back around to glare. He struggled against Freeza's hold again with new fervor.
The tail returned to view, the tip waggling to mock him. It came back down repeatedly, each time it landed it split new flesh. When Freeza relented great gashes crossed Vegeta's face and chest. Blood trailed from each, deep purple bruises already swelling the flesh.
Freeza drew his head back, crushing his forehead into Vegeta's nose at the same moment he let the Saiyajin go. Head reeling, Vegeta free-fell as black and red blurred his vision. He hit the water below with a clap that pushed the air from his lungs. The vision of Freeza above him flickered with the surface over his head. The cold water served to clear his pounding head and a second later he had breached the waves with fists curled.
Vegeta didn't notice the startled eyes that looked out at him from a nearby underwater cave as he had entered the sea. Nor the intrigued look that passed over a smooth face as he made his way out again. Slowly, the creature stuck its head from the cave entrance and peered up into the sky to watch the golden man fight, a small smile on thin blue lips.
