Piccolo cried out in pain, gritting his teeth at the last moment to try and stop it. Freeza was snarling at him, saliva literally foaming at his lips. The ball of his shoulder was slowly slipping free of the cartilage and he wasn't sure what bothered him the most, the fact that he could feel it with acute accuracy, or that he was too busy thinking about his shoulder separating and not how to blast the evil tyrant off of his back.
Freeza was hissing into his ear, nonsensical words in his rage, and jerking violently on his elbow. The special beam cannon had caught the Icejin by surprise and roughly between his breast plate and navel. It had done little else than char his topmost flesh and push him skyward, but Piccolo was pretty sure it was the beast's own slip up to allow himself to get hit that was bothering him more than the fact that he was.
"Freeza!" A garbled voice spat. Piccolo couldn't see who it was, but was slightly glad that someone had finally come to his rescue. The effeminate lord growled, and jerked up as he spun. The ball-socket released with a soft pop and Piccolo howled.
He was set free quite suddenly a second later and fell half a dozen feet before supporting himself mid-air and clutching at his useless arm as he looked up to see his savior. A grim line creased his forehead and he narrowed his lips into a thin line. Gogeta was hovering in all of his splendor.
That would explain the voice.
The double-saiyajin smirked, eye teeth exaggerated in the oddly familiar face. "Welcome to your death." It lurched at Freeza, hands already balled into fists. The Icejin met him head on, and Piccolo lost them in a blur.
Mirai floated to a stop beside him with eyes wide. "What is that?"
Piccolo turned his head to look the young man over before allowing his eyes to unfocus so that he might follow the fighting duo (trio really). "That is your father and Goku."
"What?" Trunks sounded highly confused, but he allowed himself to indulge the idea as he followed the fighting as carefully as he could.
"I forget all that you've missed since you've gone home." Piccolo spoke with a hiss. He rotated his injured shoulder and felt it creak and pop as it shifted and pushed itself back into place. He assisted it with his free hand and settled it with a snap. New pain blossomed across his deltoid but he ignored it as he worked the kinks free.
"You'll have to ask someone else to fill you in later. All you need to know now is that Goku and Vegeta have fused into one being. And that person is who you see now."
Mirai nodded. He could feel the truth of what Piccolo was saying as he tested what he knew with what he was shown. The ki signature of the new saiyajin was a unique blend of the two pure bloods: a hot intensity with a flowing edge that belonged to Goku; and an icy undercurrent of control and calculation that was his father. The depth of it was unfathomable. Trunks could only imagine the strength and energy the combined had.
"What do we do now?"
Piccolo gave him a steady look before trying to catch a glimpse of the fight. "We stay out of the way." Without another glance at the demi he took off toward the shore, landing on a Cliffside nearly five miles away from Gogeta.
They stood together in silence. Mirai caught snippets of the fight as the two paused their never-ending circling now and then. He frowned as he watched, muscles twitching as each blow was delivered by his pseudo-father.
Gogeta was grinning. At first it was from his confidence, but as the fight went on and Freeza's cocky smirk faded the grin only grew. They were closely matched now, but Gogeta knew he was stronger. The best part was, Freeza was starting to realize it himself.
The double saiyajin focused his mind. It would not due to be cocky this time. They had to destroy Freeza even if it took only a few minutes and did not allow him time to flex his muscles.
He started a series of moves, flowing like molten lava--utterly destructive and twice as deadly. An unbidden thought of Majin Buu lept into mind and Gogeta frowned momentarily before concentrating again.
To Gogeta's mild surprise, the moves were met by blocking. Each blow did a minimum of damage as it was met by counterblows. Freeza cackled at the irritation on the saiyajin's face.
"I watched you. I know all of your pathetic moves." Freeza spat, still countering. "You didn't think I was foolish enough to chase you both here just to die because you were too weak to do it separately?"
Gogeta's pride prickled, "You think I can't kill you?" He hissed, eyes narrowed to slits.
Freeza cackled again as the saiyajin spat at him and lunged. The icejin took advantage of his moment of weakness to uppercut him. Gogeta's head snapped back though he did not move. When he faced Freeza again a smear of blood was across his chin.
An evil smile curled on Gogeta's face, the split in his lip pulling open further until a steady trickle leaked down the cleft of his chin and down his neck. "Clever. For an extinct species." Freeza scowled and lunged. Gogeta laughed in harsh bursts as he dodged easily. "Your father is dead, by saiyajin hand. Your brother is dead, by mine." As he spoke, the dual voices faded until only Goku's rich tenor spoke the last word.
Gogeta caught the tyrant by the throat, curling his thick fingers into the soft flesh until his sharp nails began to pierce. "And you are already dead."
The sun had set an hour ago, and the others had not returned from their fight with Freeza. Legolas and the twins were sitting close to each other, jammed into a seat with room for only two. The three of them were speaking in quiet quenya when Aragorn, Gimli and Gandalf entered wearily.
The dwarf dropped to a low chair in the corner, resting his chin in his palm with a grunt. He was woken--rudely in his opinion--from his sleep by Gandalf's incessant banging on his door. He was still too tired to care about what was so important as to warrant his immediate relinquish of sleep. He just got up, grumbling to himself, and followed the wizard through the halls.
The three elves looked up at them as they situated themselves about the room. Elrohir watched his foster brother squat by the fireplace, poking at the burning logs there. He allowed Aragorn some quiet contemplation with the flames before speaking up.
"Ya anta nwalya, melin toron?" He whispered.
Aragorn blinked over at him, face solemn and drawn. The twin brothers frowned softly at him. Never before had they seen his mortality so plainly; the creases on his face, the wisps of grey already threading in his temples and speckling the scruff on his chin.
"I have faced Sarumon," the rider spoke softly. The sleepy faces in the room hardened. He nodded in silent answer to their unspoken question. "The end is drawing near, and it is time to face our threat."
He stood from the fireplace and sat in a high backed chair across from Gimli. "Our friends have shown me that much."
Gandalf puffed on his pipe and blew hazy smoke through the room. "I understand that the foreigners to our world seem to take their lives into their own hands at every turn, but I am uncertain that this was the best choice for us."
"If Frodo and Sam are indeed alive, they will need our help any way we can give it." Aragorn withdrew his own pipe and packed it. "Even if that means distracting Sarumon until they can finish what they had set out to do."
"I do not know whether the choice you have made is a wise one, Estel, but I will support your decision with all I have in me." Elladan gave his foster brother a radiant smile. The Gondorian king readily returned it, though it was far more weary.
"Aye. Me too." Gimli grunted from his seat, lifting his pipe to the ranger in a mock salute.
"As well as I, and all of those I have left," a stern voice spoke from the entry. The occupants of the room turned to find Eomer walking slowly into their company. He looked as though all the world had already ended. He wore no armor and no weapons, only soft clothes and untamed hair.
The Rohirrim leader sat gently on the edge of a chair next to Aragorn, hands gripping the arms tightly as soon as he lowered to his seat. The others tried not to look on him with pity, knowing it was far from what the man wanted and not what he would need in his time to heal. An uncle dead and a sister wounded.
Aragorn nodded his head in thanks, offering his pipe to the man in a ploy of sympathy. Eomer shook his head and faced the fire.
"It would be highly beneficial to our ranks if Piccolo and the saiyajins could assist us." Legolas spoke seemly out of no where.
Gandalf nodded his head slowly, pulling the pipe from his teeth. "Perhaps, but the threat of Sarumon is of our own world and they are dealing with a threat from their own. Had they not arrived at the start of this quest we would still be here facing our enemy."
Legolas nodded, trying to pretend he wasn't disappointed.
"Then we are in agreement," Aragorn stood. "In a few hours time we march for the gates of Mordor to call him out."
The others in the room stood as well, giving each other a once over with grim eyes. Who knew whom of them would be dead by this time tomorrow evening? Perhaps it would be all of them...
The continual dull grey of the sky belied the time. It appeared as dusk though it was nearly dawn. Great plumes of smoke and ash from Mordor had spread across the skies and blotted out the sunlight that tried desperately to filter through. Somewhere far to the east, Sauron was laughing.
Aragorn, as the new king Elessar, had rounded up the loose troops and gotten Eomer and the other far regions leaders together. As a whole the city had emptied entirely of warriors not a quarter hour before. The troops were restless and wary, knowing where they were headed but trying valiantly not to think about if they were ever going to make it back.
Many miles to the south of them, Piccolo and Trunks were ignoring the fact that they were exhausted and useless as they watched Gogeta and Freeza. The double-saiyajin had split apart twice so far, leaving Goku and Vegeta tumbling through the air away from each other like matching ends of a super magnet. Each time, Piccolo and Trunks had thrown themselves into Freeza's personal space to keep him preoccupied until both pure bloods could gather themselves together and recombine.
Trunks was nursing a bruised jaw and rejoined (previously dislocated) shoulder and knee. Piccolo had reassembled his broken parts on numerous occasions--couldn't accurately recall how many times he had to reset a broken nose--but was doing well considering. Goku and Vegeta, though slowly growing weary and lightly battered, were doing well.
Freeza, however, was not. Though the tyrant was still holding his own, his strength and resilience were fading. Welts and bruises of various sizes had ruined the glossy white of his skin. He had grown to his ultimate form and was knocked back out of it only recently. Gogeta was smirking at him, and he knew somewhere deep within that he was a dead Icejin.
Gogeta grasped Freeza by the throat with one large hand. He squeezed slowly, watching the blood pool in the Icejin's cheeks. Frustrated and furious--Daddy wasn't going to help him this time--Freeza swung his tail at the saiyajin's face.
Snarling, Gogeta grasped the flailing segment with his free hand and wrenched. Freeza would have screamed if he could have. Gogeta yanked again and slowly the root of the evil creature's tail began to seperate. The flesh cracked open, and seconds later, the flesh ripped free.
The fight seemed to drain entirely from Freeza's body. He hung limply by the saiyajin's fingers.
"I should have made you die slowly," Gogeta's dual voice hummed, "but I'll just have to live with you being erased from existence."
Freeza snarled, lips curling high over his teeth. He wasn't allowed a last word, not that he deserved one. Gogeta's free fist charged with an incredible amount of energy. His fingers extended and pinpoints of light gathered at his fingertips. The beams connected into a single point of energy that blasted a hole through Freeza's heart. The beam grew in diameter until only a thin layer of flesh connected the limbs of his body together, the trunk vaporized into Middle Earth's atmosphere.
Gogeta flicked the remains of Freeza's body into the air and disintegrated it into ash. With a self-satisfied smirk he turned to face Piccolo and Mirai before he began to glow. Where one saiyajin stood, two blew apart.
Goku hit the water with a giant splash and wake of foam. Vegeta impacted the sand at the sea's boarder. Piccolo and Mirai were already on their way to their aid.
Piccolo removed a sensu bean from his bag and tossed the small draw-string pouch to Mirai. The Namek retrieved Goku from the salty water, resting the saiyajin's head in the crook of his elbow. Goku grumbled at him, his face lax and ready for sleep. "Here Goku."
The saiyajin accepted the bean with little prompting and chewed it unconsciously. The bruises and cuts of his body healed, though the sleep-weary wrinkles remained. "Hey, Piccolo."
The Namek grunted, helping Goku right himself as they flew at a leisurely pace toward Mirai who was trying his best not to aid his wavering father. They landed on the soft sand a second later.
Goku quickly steady the Ouji, checking him over for wounds. Piccolo and Mirai shared a look over his shoulder. "How do you feel, Vegeta?"
The saiyajin prince snorted, shrugging away the helpful hold, "I'm fine, Kakkarot, now stop drooling over me."
The taller saiyajin grinned, "I don't think I can do that."
Piccolo repressed a gag on reflex.
Vegeta smirked, preening slightly at the compliment. "What do we do now?"
"Return to Gondor," Piccolo said quietly. "Freeza may be dead, but the others still have their enemy to finish."
Goku nodded and returned a hand to Vegeta's shoulder. He pressed his thumb into a pale crescent scar at the base of the Ouji's neck. The older saiyajin shivered and Goku felt an echo of pleasure at the back of his mind. "We still have things to sort out, too. Like where exactly did you come from?"
"Look, can you discuss this when we get back to the city?" Piccolo growled, adding in a low grunt, "and where I won't have to watch?"
Vegeta smirked up at him, "Jealous?"
Piccolo made a face of disgust though somewhere in his head he heard Kami scoff at his reaction.
Mirai grinned at them, feeling a bit nostalgic at how easily they handled each other's friendship. He was jealous, but not of his father's new found ...whatever it was. He had never had comfortable camaraderie with anyone, not entirely. It was something he was looking forward to finding.
"Let's go."
When the four of them touched down at the twisted and broken gates of Gondor, they found it eerily quiet. "Where is everyone?" Trunks asked softly, as though afraid of breaking the silence.
"Gone." Goku breathed, oblivious to the 'well duh' look he was getting from Vegeta.
It took them climbing the citadel stairs to realize that not everyone had gone. There were women and children in the buildings higher up toward the castle. They looked out at the four of them with wide, watery eyes and wavering smiles. They didn't like where this was headed.
When they reached the Halls of Healing, they found only a few healers checking through rooms that were in far fewer numbers than there had been when they had last seen.
Piccolo looked into Merry's room and came to a complete stop in the hallway. Goku paused and turned toward him. "What's the matter, Piccolo?"
"Merry's gone."
Goku scratched the back of his head, "Maybe they moved him to another room?"
"No," a hoarse voice called. Goku turned but did not recognize the scruffy character that was speaking.
Piccolo stepped toward the man, leaving the saiyajins to look after him in confusion. "Faramir. Where is everyone?"
"They've gone to Mordor." The steward's son gazed wearily between them.
"Already?" Mirai gaped, an odd panic clutching at him.
Faramir nodded. "They left nearly an hour ago. Aragorn has decided to grasp hold of his fate."
"Then we can still catch them." Vegeta spoke with authority, already preparing himself to leave.
"No," Faramir shook his shaggy head.
"What do you mean, 'No'?" Vegeta narrowed his eyes. How dare this pathetic human tell him what to do?
"Hold a moment," Faramir patted his pockets carefully, with movements of a man still very ill. He found what he was looking for in a pouch at his hip. Inside, he withdrew a folded paper, sealed with red wax. He held it toward them, willing one of them to take it. "It is from Mithrandir."
Mirai took it with a skeptical look. He broke the wax with his thumbnail and unfolded the note. The other's waited, frowning as the boy's face fell. "It says that we've fulfilled our part of the journey. He wants us to stay here and wait for their return."
"What?" Vegeta spat, snatching the note from his son's fingers. Hard onyx eyes scanned over the letter before he tightened his fist and crumpled the thick paper in his hand. "It's true. Apparently he wants us to stay."
"But why?" Mirai exploded. "We can finish this in two seconds!"
"That's not it, Trunks," Goku spoke softly. His face was set but not hard. "It makes sense. We interrupted whatever was going to happen to this planet. We've taken care of what we brought with us--"
"Freeza," Trunks murmured.
Goku nodded, "And now we have to let them do this themselves."
The youngest saiyajin sighed heavily and sat on a conveniently placed bench nearby. Piccolo pulled the letter from Vegeta's fingers and skimmed it himself. He wasn't expecting it to say anything different, but it helped ease him none the less.
"Then all we can do is wait."
Piccolo walked with Faramir to the gardens while the saiyajins sulked toward the kitchens to make themselves something to eat.
"How do you feel?"
Faramir blinked at him while aimlessly rolling a rose between his fingers. "I am still weak, but healing."
The Namek grunted in reply. They walked further in silence until Faramir began to slow and sat down on the wall with a slight tremble. The young man gave him an exhausted smile.
"Maybe you should go back to your room."
Faramir shook his head. "I've only now been allowed out, and I miss the fresh air." He looked across the gardens, eyes brightening slightly before he looked away quickly. Piccolo quirked an eye ridge and turned to see what had perked the man up.
At the exit door they had come through several minutes before, the lady Eowyn was walking carefully from the Healing Hall. Piccolo smirked, "Not to mention the sights."
The man grunted, not denying, and flushed lightly. "I have seen her in the halls, but never spoken to her. I know she is the new Rohan king's sister, the Lady Eowyn, but that is all."
"She's here because she attacked the king of the Nazgul." Piccolo nodded slightly at the incredulous look on Faramir's face.
"Surely she didn't--"
"Kill him? Yes, she did." Piccolo smirked at the look of awe that filled the man's face as he stared after the woman. She seemed oblivious to the two that spoke of her only feet away.
They sat watching Eowyn as she wandered through the flowers, occasionally touching the colorful petals with her undamaged hand. Faramir was absolutely enraptured with her. He was not obvious in his stares to any that was looking at him from a distance, but Piccolo had the urge to growl and throw him at the woman just so he wouldn't have to witness the nauseating scene any longer.
"For Kami's sake go talk to her." Piccolo rumbled.
"What?" Faramir stiffened, shooting the Namek an evil look that told the alien to watch the level of his voice.
"Lady Eowyn!" Piccolo called. The woman's head snapped up and she gave him a wavering smile. She carefully picked her way toward them through the thistles, oblivious to the fact that Faramir was currently trying to wrap his hands around Piccolo's thick neck.
"Master Namek," Eowyn nodded politely as she stopped before them. She looked highly uncomfortable.
"Good to see you awake." Piccolo told her, trying his best not to seem too threatening until he could establish a connection between the simpering Faramir and the wounded lady. "Have you met Lord Faramir?"
The lady's cheeks darkened a shade as she shook her head, "No, I have not had the pleasure."
Faramir stood, taking the woman's free hand and prostrating before her. "The pleasure is mine, my lady."
Piccolo rolled his eyes and looked toward the doorway with great interest. "Excuse me, but Goku just motioned me inside."
Faramir gave him a look somewhere between exasperation and gratitude. "Of course."
Piccolo quickly strode to the doorway, pausing once to look back at the two of them and roll his eyes. Eowyn had sat down beside Faramir and was blushing madly while the man was trying not to smile quite so largely.
Mirai was talking quietly with several women that fluttered around him. Most of them were younger, giving him approving looks and asking quirky questions about his hair. The others were older, trying to stuff him full of food and swatting the younger women away so they could be motherly.
Goku and Vegeta sat several tables away, alone. Vegeta was slightly frustrated and flushed, swatting Goku's hand away. After they had finished devouring a mountain of food, Goku's attention had returned to the crescent scar at his neck. The man had a fixation with it.
At first, Vegeta hadn't minded. Goku's thick fingers had ghosted across it, curious; but as time went the saiyajin tested Vegeta's reaction with more pressure. It seemed hard pressed to get the younger to understand what he was doing to the Ouji.
"Kakkarot," Vegeta snarled for the sixth time. Goku blinked, realizing that he was thumbing the scar again and quickly dropped his hand.
"Sorry, 'Geta," he mumbled, but a moment later his hand came up again and his fingers danced across the scar. It was true he didn't know exactly what Vegeta was feeling from all of it, but every time he touched it a spot in the back of his mind tingled and stretched like a rubber band.
Vegeta somewhat understood the curiosity. He had been taught and read various books about what they had done when he was a young pup on Vegetasei. However, what was documented was barely a memory anymore.
Finally, frustrated by Goku's constant attention, Vegeta grasped hold of Goku's neck and pressed his own thumb into the man's scar. Goku gasped, eyes unfocusing and hand dropping away.
Vegeta felt bad for a moment at being so rough, but from the stark color and muted feelings that pulsed at the back of his skull, he didn't dwell on it.
"Kami, 'Geta, was I doing that to you?" Goku breathed, eyes still detached.
"Yes," Vegeta blurted, not meaning to tell the third class. However, he was too distracted by the flush of color across Goku's face and the breathy way the saiyajin was speaking to think correctly.
Dark chocolate eyes flicked over to catch Vegeta's. "I'm not sure if I want to apologize for that or not." Vegeta snorted at the man's audacity but let a smirk slip regardless.
They sat without touching each other for a long time, allowing the odd sensations to pass. Goku sat on his hands to keep from handling the Ouji involuntarily. "You were supposed to tell me about this." He motioned toward Vegeta's neck, then quickly motioned his own and sat on his hand again.
Vegeta sighed heavily through his nose, "I'm not sure if you'll understand."
Goku looked affronted. "You have to!"
"Yes, yes," Vegeta waved him off. He thought for a moment on how to proceed. "What were you thinking when you bit me, Kakkarot?"
Goku blinked, looking slightly embarrassed. "I, uh, I'm not sure 'Geta. You were hurt by Freeza and I thought you were going to die."
"Hnn," Vegeta thought again. "And when you bit me?"
The third class scratched his head, actually trying to apply himself to the questions. "Not much. I was just really worried," A deep blush started at Goku's collar and begin to rise into his face, Vegeta found it endearing but didn't say anything. "Then my head hurt."
"Your head hurt." Vegeta deadpanned.
"Yea. Really bad too. Like someone hit me in the back of the head."
An aristocratic brow rose. "The back of your head."
Goku nodded. "Yea. Right here." He helpfully motioned with the whole of his hand and ruffled the hair at the back of his skull.
"Why did you bite me?"
A shrug. "I dunno. I just...did."
"Fine, fine." Vegeta wiped down his face with a palm. "What you started was a bonding process, Kakkarot."
"Bonding?" Goku repeated, head cocking to one side.
Vegeta ignored the question and continued. "When I woke up and returned the bite, I added to it. Bonding like this," he motioned his neck with a flick of his fingers, "connects the mind, and sometimes emotion."
"Whoa." Goku's eyes were wide. "So you can hear what I'm thinking?"
"Not necessarily. I did once, but you were distracted and angry. Strong emotions and strong thoughts."
A large grin split Goku's face. "Can you tell what I'm thinking right now?"
Vegeta sighed as Goku's face screwed up in concentration. "That you want a banana."
"Huh?"
"No, Kakkarot. I told you already. Strong emotions, strong thoughts, those get through."
"Oh." Goku looked decidedly disappointed.
Vegeta tested the link and shook his head. He could feel the third classes disappointment as though it were his own. "Here, Kakkarot. If you must try, tell me what I'm feeling."
Goku perked up and concentrated. He frowned. "I don't think it worked, Vegeta."
"Why not?"
"Well, I'm just frustrated."
Vegeta grinned. "Good. Then it works the opposite direction as well." Goku beamed.
"So, that's it? I can sometimes hear what you think?"
The Ouji averted his gaze, "Not exactly."
"Well?" Goku sat forward expectantly. Vegeta would not meet his gaze and he was beginning to get worried. "What is it?"
"Were we on Vegetasei, we would be together." Vegeta glanced over but saw Goku was not understanding. "You would not be allowed to see another person...socially. Nor would I."
"So we're, like, married or something?" Goku's eyes were wide in his face again.
Vegeta felt a slight panic well. "In a sense. But it is far deeper than a piece of paper." He saw Goku pale slightly and spoke quickly. "However, at this stage it can be reversed to a degree. There would be no bloodlust, no stronger 'attachment' than the mental connection."
Goku blinked, feeling an insane amount of jumbled emotion race through his head, half of which belonged to Vegeta. He wasn't sure what to think. He had started the whole thing as the first to bite, but did he want to end it? He was married to ChiChi, and even though he was on a different planet didn't mean he wouldn't return home soon. He loved her, but he was damned sure he loved Vegeta too. What would they do then if they didn't break it? But he didn't want to lose what he'd found with Vegeta...
"No." He said softly.
Vegeta paused in his mental rant, trying to make himself believe that he could possibly sever the tie he had never dreamed he would achieve in his lifetime. He had to take a deep breath and release it slowly before he asked Goku to repeat himself.
"No," Goku said, stronger this time. He rested a hand on Vegeta's shoulder, noting Vegeta flinch. "I don't want to-to break it. I mean, it's going to be difficult when we get home, but I don't want that."
Vegeta had yet to breath in again. Goku smiled gently at him, feeling the insecure and unsure emotion flow in from their link. He focused on his contented feeling and pushed it toward Vegeta as he kissed his cheek.
"No?" Vegeta questioned, partly confused. How could Kakkarot, not want to break it?
"Vegeta," Goku shook him slightly, "unless you want to stop it, I would like to...well...keep it."
The saiyajin prince smiled, a mere curling at the corners of his lips. "You'd have to suffer with me until you die, Kakkarot...or until I do."
Goku beamed. "Sounds fair."
Vegeta opened his mouth, trying to dissuade the younger again but found it was occupied with an eager tongue and flicking fingers at his collarbone.
They spent several minutes tracing each others scar lines and teeth, awed at the feeling of being kissed and kissing in two directions when they were interrupted.
"Maybe you guys should go back to a room?" Mirai smirked at them from his seat across the table. Vegeta scowled, ready to beat some manners into his son but Goku felt his irritation and pressed his thumb into the scar again, making him forget everything but sensation for a long minute.
"Does it bother you?" Goku asked him softly, eyes asking for the truth with open and innocent eyes.
Trunks shook his head, "No." He smiled. "I'm glad for you. It's just the ladies seem a bit shaken." He nodded toward the clique of women who had hovered over him earlier where they stood in a huddle looking at the three saiyajins. Most of them looked horrified, but two or three looked intrigued and ready to say 'awww'.
Goku beamed at Mirai's answer. He didn't want the others to feel put off by this, but he'd have to let them sort it out if they did. He was too caught up in it all to give it up because someone didn't like it.
"I think we will leave." Vegeta stood, having come back to himself. He nodded toward his son and left with Goku in tow.
Mirai watched them leave, grinning after them. Now if only he could get ahold of two certain identical elves, he just might have reason to look as contented as his father did.
The warriors of Middle Earth were antsy, but steadily growing willing to make the attack they were marching for. Some of them had seen the foreigners fight, and had told their tale to any who would listen. It was amazing the amount of morale that could be bolstered by the tale of strong men who would surely come to aid. Soon, the tale of glowing fighters had spread across the ranks until all the men were abuzz. Now each fighter had taken on thousands more orc, used one blow, and never slept at night.
Merry and Pippin were asked to talk about their friends so often that they themselves had started fabricating stories. Outlandish lies that made them giggle for long stretches after their audience had disappeared. After they had calmed, the realization of their journey would come back to them, and they would stay solemn until another herd of men came for a tale.
As for Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli, they knew that the strangers to their world were not coming to their aid. Gandalf had discussed the situation with them after the others had retired the night before to retrieve what sleep they could. They all agreed that the aliens did not need to help them with this fight, that it was a fight they had to do on their own.
Legolas had mourned quietly when they left. Piccolo had yet to return, as had the others, and though he tried to think positively he could not for long. He had agreed with Gandalf and the others, but it did not mean he wanted one last hard look at his infatuation before he ran off into what might be his early death.
The twin Peredhil had understood, though their affinity for Mirai was different than Legolas' affection for Piccolo. They too were a near millennia old, but had yet to seek a relationship as serious as Legolas believed he had found. They wanted the young saiyajin, of course, and though they did not want him for only a moment, they were hard pressed to think they would want him for all time.
Aragorn had heard them speaking quietly about it during their travel and turned to them with a withering eye. "Elladan, Elrohir, come here a moment."
Dutifully the two came at their brother's beckon, a little struck at how serious he was. "Yes, onooro?"
"Do not play with the young prince's affections." He said quietly.
The twins looked to each other in confusion before turning back to Aragorn. "We do not understand--"
"If you only want the boy as a plaything, then find another." Aragorn glared over at them from atop his mount. "I have heard the tale's of this boy's hardship from Goku, and the last thing he needs are two wiley elves who only seek to bed him."
Elrohir frowned harshly while Elladan gaped. "We do not seek a conquest, Estel," Elladan huffed.
Elrohir nodded in confirmation. "We do care for him, but perhaps not as he thinks."
The ranger narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. "Then you will tell him when you see him again. Do not hurt him, he has been hurt badly enough."
And with that he rode toward the front and Gandalf. The twins rode on in a funk, taken aback at their brother's audacity. But mostly feeling a little guilty. They had known some of the saiyajin's problems, but no detail of anything. Only that he had grown to fight an evil...but that was quite a lot like life on Middle Earth these years.
They looked to each other and decided that when they returned from this fight--victorious or not--they would have to speak candidly to Trunks. Better to hurt him and allow him to return home to heal, than to string him along and break his heart.
Ya anta nwalya, melin toron : What gives you pain, dear brother
Onooro :brother
